When Nothing Else Matters
by Rainbow Brownie
Summary: When all seemed lost and even hope had deserted him, has blind chance, or something else, brought him to Rainbow Land?
1. Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis

"Uuunnhh. Nnngghh."

His first memory was one of blinding pain. Unimaginable agony that lasted, thankfully, only a moment before quickly easing to a low, dull aching throb, like a toothache. Just a toothache that consisted of his entire body.

Softly panting he simply laid there for a while, resting, while his mind seemed to whirl like a pinwheel. It felt like parts of him had been stretched while other parts of him had been squished. A quite decidedly odd, and _definitely_ uncomfortable, feeling. His tummy was queasy and, making that worse, _much_ worse, was a rapidly growing fear. He simply couldn't remember _anything_, not a single thing.

Well, that wasn't _quite_ true. It was as if memories were there. Just at the tip of his fingers. But every time he tried clutching one it slipped away, like trying to grasp a snowflake in the middle of a howling blizzard. And it seemed to get harder and harder the more he tried until, finally, he just gave up for now and lay there, shivering and trembling.

Gradually the pain faded, shifting through dull discomfort until finally disappearing, although he still felt . . . Odd. Awkward and clumsy. Again he had the most amazing, fleeting feeling of having been stretched and pulled, squished and compressed, as if he'd been taffy or putty.

Little by little he started becoming aware of other things, too. He felt chilly, for one. Both the stone he lay atop and the air around him felt clammy and dank and cool. And the air! . . . ugh! It had an awful, noisome stench to it. Wait . . . _stone!?_

His cheek was resting against gritty stone. Something he noticed quite easily once he'd rolled more onto his tummy, rested his palms flat on that surface then lifted his head up a bit, finally opening his eyes. Raising one hand a moment he pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked around at last . . . and shuddered as he took his first look around.

It was the oddest 'dark' he'd ever seen. It certainly wasn't daylight, _that_ was for certain sure! But it also wasn't _night_ night, either. The only description he could think of that fit was some sort of eerie, gloomy, dismal twilight. As if the gloom itself gave off some sort of creepy, unnatural illumination. And the fog!

That was just as eerie and spooky as the gloom. Thick tendrils of ghastly, nasty-smelling vapor twisted and twined _everywhere_! And while there wasn't a breeze to be felt, those crepuscular coils twisted and snaked about, almost as if alive.

He couldn't think of a scarier, most depressing and gloomy place if he'd tried. And, honestly, really the very last thing he wanted to do right then was try and picture that!

Suddenly he felt his breath catch, felt his eyes widen like saucers behind his glasses as he glanced down at his hands. They had to be his hands; they were attached to his arms, after all. And then he noticed his arms, and his mind started whirling again, leaving him feeling dizzy and lightheaded.

One of those elusive memories flitted by, lingering just long enough to confirm what he'd already, instinctively known: neither his hands _nor_ his arms were supposed to be brown. A uniform, smooth and unblemished bark brown, except for nails which were a somewhat lighter, acorn-ish brown. He slowly pushed up on his knees, staring wide-eyed at his hands, turning them palm-up then palm-down, just staring at them.

And then his jaw dropped even further when he rubbed fingers against his other arm. It not only _looked_ like wood, it _felt_ like wood, too! Like finely sanded, and highly polished, wood. But wood that, somehow, also felt warm and alive. Slowly, clumsily, he clambered up off his knees and stood, feeling legs wobbly from shock, and also feeling oddly . . . unbalanced. As if he wasn't quite used to his legs and arms and body. Which was silly, of course. But that's what it felt like!

He quickly noticed it wasn't just his hands and arms that looked that way. All of him that he could check, save for his fingernails, was that same, uniform color. Like he'd been dipped in stain or dye or something. He suspected his toenails probably looked like his fingernails, too, but as he was currently wearing boot moccasins he couldn't tell. Then _that_ jogged another memory almost loose.

Whatever he was wearing felt . . . peculiar. Unusual. Why, he couldn't quite say. But they obviously were his clothes, because they _did_ fit him. Fit him perfectly, in fact.

First off were the boot moccasins. They looked like Indian-style boot moccasins (and for a moment 'Indian' meant something to him before that memory fluttered off lost again), except fashioned of sturdy leather rather than soft suede. And brown; what a surprise he thought. Then there was a short-sleeved tunic, the bottom reaching just above his knees with a split at front and back. That, too, was brown, although of a lighter, warmer color, and felt like coarse linen. Coarse, just not rough. It wasn't like burlap or canvas but it also wasn't as fine-woven as silk. There was a leather belt and a small leather belt pouch, too. And, again, brown.

Pushing his glasses back up he slowly looked around, wrapping arms around him as he shuddered. Wherever this was, whatever this place was, he didn't like it, nope, not at all! And making that worse was having no idea, none at all, of where he was, or why he was there and, most importantly, _who_ he was. But the one thing he was for certain sure about was he didn't want to _stay_ here.

Things quickly disappeared in that gloomy fog, but what he could see around him wasn't exactly relieving. He was standing atop some sort of, well, road. More of a causeway, actually, since it seemed as much bridge as it did road, twisting and winding its way over frightening, yawning gullies and chasms and through rolling, bare hills. It wasn't level, either, so he had three choices: walk off the side of the road and off into those scary, frightening woods (which didn't at all appeal to him), or plod uphill, or trudge downhill. He found himself already walking the downhill way before he realized it, almost as if something was urging him along. And since it was easier to walk down than up he just kept plodding along, keeping to the dead center of the rough, cracked and dusty road and far away from the uneven, irregular borders.

As he walked along he slowly became aware of some unsettling things. There were no bushes or shrubs or flowers. There was no grass. There weren't even weeds! And a road this old, this decrepit, should certainly have weeds sprouting up! That's what weeds _did_, after all! But all he saw were a few old, dead trees. At least they _looked_ dead. They were bare of leaves, their branches thrusting skeletally up into the air, trunks grayish and hoary with age. He'd have thought they were just bare from winter, except it didn't _feel_ like winter. Plus there were no sign of fallen leaves or other litter. Pausing at one he more closely looked at it. Poor thing, it felt like it was still alive but just too hopeless and despairing to sprout leaves.

And while there was no obvious sign of life —no twittering, chirping birds, no scolding jays or squirrels, no buzzing bees or droning flies— he just couldn't shake the feeling of eyes upon him. Eyes that meant him no good will. Eyes that gleefully followed him. Wicked eyes that patiently waited, knowing that soon he would be theirs.

He'd been walking for some time, feeling more and more scared and alone and lost, when he finally jerked to a stop, his ears perking forwards. He'd heard a noise, the very first sound he'd heard save for his own breathing and the scuff of his moccasins. It was a _very_ odd sound, too, and one that was quickly growing louder, which meant _closer_.

Within half a minute he jerked again, his mind finally making sense of the noise: a semi-rhythmic rumble, then grind, then burped cough. It sounded like an engine; one in very bad need of a tune-up, an engine straining to make its way up the sloped road . . . and towards him.

For a moment he was delighted to hear that sound, for that meant he'd finally see someone. But no sooner had recognition dawned than a terrible sense of fear descended upon him. He didn't know why. He couldn't explain it. He just knew, beyond any question, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he needed to hide. That the very last thing he wanted to happen was being spotted and seen. He didn't think, he didn't guess; he _knew_.

Panicked now, he looked left, then right, then all around, feeling his chest tighten with fear, his heart pound with dread. He had to hide, he _had_ to! But there _was_ nowhere to hide!

Looking back the way he'd come he saw a wizened, bent tree just off the side of the road about a hundred feet away. He was already racing up the road towards it before he'd even thought. It wasn't much as a hiding place but it would have to do as his only other choices were jumping off one side of the road and down into a gully, or racing off the other side and into that awful, frightening woods, and neither of those appealed to him in the least!

Skidding to a stop he leapt off the road and dashed over to the tree, crouching behind it and pressing tight. It wasn't much but, between the twilight and the gloom, surely whoever (or whatever, he thought with a shiver) it was wouldn't likely see him as they drove by.

Whoever (or whatever) he'd pictured, the reality hit him like a punch to the tummy when the source of the noise finally hove into view. He literally gasped, doubling over in shock before shaking like a leaf in one of Stormy's tempests. One, two, three, right in a row, he felt the sledgehammer jolt of disbelieving recognition.

First was the vehicle that coughed and sputtered and belched its way towards him. His eyes rounded spotting that. It . . . it _couldn't_ be! It just _couldn't_!

But it _was_, and certainly _could_ be. There was _no_ mistaking the Grunge Buggy for anything else. And that meant . . .

That meant the creature driving it had to be Lurky. And where there was Lurky . . .

"Keep going, keep going oh please just keep going," he whispered, quaking in terror as he hid, that tree suddenly feeling much too small to be any use at all in hiding. He had no idea at all, _at all!_, how he'd known what that was and who they were. But knew them he did, and not for a moment did he question that absolute conviction.

"Stop! _Stop!_ I said _stop_, lame-brain!" a voice yelled out as the Grunge Buggy sputtered by, and he whimpered, pressing tighter against the tree, willing himself to, somehow, go invisible. Or _something!_ With an awful screech the Grunge Buggy fishtailed to a stop, not twenty feet away from him!

"What are we stoppin' for Murky? We're not back at da Pits yet."

"I know that banana brain!" growled who could only be Murky. "That's part of my Master Plan!" he sniggered.

Daring a peek around the tree he quickly pulled his head back, wishing he hadn't. For jogging right towards him was Murky!

"Oh right! The Master Plan!" Lurky repeated. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy! The Master Plan!" he chortled. "Uh . . . what's da Master Plan Murky?"

By then Murky had stopped right by the tree, and he was certain he'd been seen. Murky was only five or so feet away, after all! He pushed tighter against the tree, his heart pounding so hard and so fast he was certain Murky could hear it! He kept pushing and pushing, trying harder and harder to mold himself to the trunk and keep from being seen, his eyes tightly closed as if that could help, too.

Then he almost gasped, feeling the oddest, most incredible sensation. His eyes popped open, then widened to saucers. _He was staring right at Murky!_ Right in his eyes, in fact! But Murky wasn't acting at all like he could see him! Which was a very _very_ good thing, he thought with an intense shudder. For Murky wasn't looking at all comical or clownish. Didn't look at all like a buffoon or goof. There was a manic, truly wicked and evil gleam to his eyes. Eyes that glittered with a twisted sense of genius.

He didn't believe, not for a moment, that Murky could effectively invent or create a 'plan' that would ever work or succeed, true. But that was a bit hard to accept when you were unfortunate enough to be staring right into those eyes of his!

Murky lay down on his belly, right at the side of the road, then leaned way over. "What's the first thing that Rainbow brat or those Color Kids do after I've been to Rainbow Land and taken something or someone?"

Lurky scratched his head. "Uhhh . . . uhhhh . . . tricked you and took it back?"

"Grrrrrrrr," Murky growled, a literal growl at that, a ferocious scowl on his face. "No, bird-brain! Not that!" Reaching down he carefully prized a small cobble from the side of the road, revealing a dank, dark hole. He stuffed something inside then jammed the cobble back in place. Standing up he dusted off his hands then glared at Lurky.

"The first thing they do is come right to the Pits to get it back. They _always_ do that. And they'll do the same thing _this_ time! Except, _this_ time . . . !" he hopped into the side car, leaning his head back and laughed and laughed. "To the Pits Lurky! We have a welcome to get ready!"

With a grinding of gears Lurky started up the Grunge Buggy, which belched a truly hideous, noxious cloud of exhaust before sputtering it's way up the road and quickly vanishing from sight.

"Whew!"

He gustily exhaled, his legs feeling like jelly. He had _no_ idea how Murky had missed seeing him but he sure wasn't complaining, oh no! He just never would have believed that old tree had been big enough to hide behind!

"Oh _wow!_"

That was an awed whisper as suddenly he noticed something. Something very important. Something that, quite understandably, he'd overlooked before. He wasn't standing _behind_ the tree. He was standing _inside_ the tree!

He slowly looked around. Yup, no mistake. He was _inside_ the tree. _How_, he had no idea. But he was. It didn't look, or feel, any different than it did standing in air. We-ell . . . just a little different, he decided after thinking hard on that. The 'air' felt a little bit, well, _thicker_. Not as thick as if moving through water, no. Nowhere near like that. Actually it was pretty hard to explain and, after a few moments, he simply shrugged and accepted it.

What was harder to accept was the slowly growing feeling of despair and hopelessness. Oh, he'd never see sunlight again. Never. And he was so dry and thirsty. And he'd never bud again, never feel springtime sap coursing through him ever again.

Hey, waitaminnute! Springtime sap? Bud again?

He was sensing the _tree's_ feelings!

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Thank you for hiding me. I wish I could help. I don't even have water or I'd give you some. But don't give up, ok? If I can ever do anything for you I will. Promise."

A feeling like summer sunshine flowed over him for a moment, and suddenly he felt much better. Slowly stepping forwards he walked _out_ of the tree, breathing a sigh of relief. He hadn't been at all sure he could do that (since he'd no idea how he'd managed to step _inside_ to begin with) and was greatly relieved at how easy it was to just walk out.

Then again, walking out of the tree meant walking back into the Pits, which wasn't exactly what he'd chose if he'd had a choice.

His knees still felt wobbly so he leaned back against the tree, especially since his mind felt just as wobbly. That had definitely been Murky Dismal and Lurky. Even if he _hadn't_ recognized them they'd called each other by name. And if they were Murky and Lurky than this was unquestionably the Pits. And that meant . . .

His breath caught in his throat. Then _that_ meant there was also a Rainbow Land. And _that_ was here, too!

Suddenly a wealth of names and images flooded his head. He gave a soft cry and fell to his knees, hands clapped to his head as they swamped his mind. Rainbow Brite. Starlite. Twink. Red Butler. Oh, and a whole host of others! That was bad enough but the truly disturbing, puzzling thing was that he felt he should already know them. Or know _of_ them at any rate. This felt like staring off into a utterly black sky and seeing, one by one, stars appear, and somehow knowing what each one was as it flickered and flared into brilliant life.

Well, if Murky and Lurky were going that way, he reasoned, than Rainbow Land should be _that_ way. Pushing off from the tree he gave it a kindly, farewell pat to the hoary, gray trunk then started to clamber up onto the road. He'd feel a lot safer, and a lot less afraid and lost, once he was in Rainbow Land, that was for sure!

But something made him pause.

_"The first thing they do is come right to the Pits to get it back. They _always_ do that. And they'll do the same thing _this_ time! Except, _this_ time . . . !"_

He remembered Murky's gloating, gleeful laughter. He had something terrible and wicked in mind, and he wondered what, if anything, that might have to do with whatever it was he'd tucked away and hidden behind that stone.

Honestly, one of the very last things he wanted to do was play around with anything Murky had touched. Whatever was behind that stone was, like as not, some sort of evil, diabolical trap. Nibbling his lip he considered things. If it _was_ meant as a trap, he reasoned, it was a rather subtle one. After all, it wasn't at all likely anyone would ever notice that stone. Not from up on the road, anyway. And even down here it was just one stone amongst many. So what was the point?

Taking a deep breath he reached out, lower lip between his teeth as he grasped the stone. Wiggling it back and forth he carefully eased it free, revealing a dark opening. Swallowing hard he reached inside and blindly groped about. With his luck it was probably a huge rat . . . or something even worse.

But to his vast relief all he felt was something soft. Taking hold he pulled it out . . .

Then dropped the stone as his jaw dropped . . . as what he'd removed unexpectedly unrolled . . . unfurling into a long, wide rainbow ribbon with a five pointed gold star at one end.


	2. A Call to Arms

A Call to Arms

There was no possible way this could be what it looked like, he thought with astonishment and awe. But it had to be. It just couldn't be anything else. Murky might be able to create colored things (he'd made a Rainbow Brite robot once, after all, for example). But there was just no way he could duplicate the, well, 'feel'. And there was just something about this that he knew, just _knew_, meant it was the real one.

He was actually holding Rainbow Brite's magical Color Belt!

For a moment it seemed as if the gloom of the Pits had faded and vanished. There was no doubt he felt immensely cheered up even though he was still stuck in the Pits! But that euphoria rapidly faded as he held the belt over upturned palms and stared at it. If _he_ had the belt . . . then that meant Rainbow Brite _didn't_. And if _she_ didn't have the belt . . .

A terrible shudder went through him at that. There was no way —never ever _ever!_ —Rainbow Brite would willingly surrender her belt. Which meant that Murky had somehow taken it from her. Again. And that _never_ meant anything good.

Now why he would have hidden it as he had, instead of keeping it and taking it back with him to the Pits, puzzled him. But figuring out puzzles at the moment was far less important than was returning Rainbow's belt to her as quickly as he could. Rolling up the Color Belt he tucked it into his belt pouch for safekeeping. Figuring out the puzzle could come later, when there was time for that. So he started jogging down the road, opposite the direction Murky and Lurky had gone. He ran, then jogged, then walked when his side got a stitch, but he never stopped moving. He'd no idea just how far away Rainbow Land was but hoped it wasn't all that distant. All it would take is for Murky or Lurky to take a peek back along this road and they'd spot him, and his goose would be cooked!

Turning a sharp corner he abruptly came to a stop, feet actually skidding. He wasn't the only one to come to a screeching halt either. He found himself face to face with a vibrantly red-headed boy who was leading a mixed group of other kids and sprites. And again as recognition struck he felt his legs grow wobbly, his mind ferociously spin.

"Who are _you_?" the boy asked, belligerently standing there and blocking the path, fisted hands on his hips and looking for all the world as if he was defending the group. Which is what the boy _was_ doing, he quickly realized. "And what are you doing here?"

It didn't help at all that the sprites behind him were nervously chattering away. Their voices were high-pitched and their words overran each other. "Who is that?" "What is that?" "Is he dangerous?" "Murky's not there too, is he?" "What should we do?" "What's going on?"

He clapped hands over ears again, partly to quiet that shrill, unexpected din, and partly in the vain but optimistic attempt of getting his head to stop swimming and spinning. _'You'd think I'd be getting used to repeated shocks by now,'_ he thought.

"Well?" the boy —who could only be Red Butler, he realized— impatiently pressed while the rest of the Color Kids protectively huddled together along with the small group of chattering sprites.

"I . . . I—," he stuttered. Who _was_ he, after all? He couldn't remember! "I—," _don't know_ is what he started to say, but instead what came out was, "I'm Brownie."

Red snorted, looking even more impatient if that was possible. "And what are you doing here?" he rpeated.

"I _don't know!_" Brownie wailed. "I . . . all I remember is waking up. Back there," he gestured up the road. "I don't remember anything else. Well, not really," he amended.

"Not really?" a soft voice piped up from the group. Glancing past Red, Brownie noticed Violet peeking around Buddy Blue. "What _do_ you remember? Do you have amnesia? Oh, well, if you did have amnesia you wouldn't remember having that I suppose."

Red cut Violet off with a chopping motion of one hand before she really got going, and right about then Brownie realized something else: he was staring eye to eye with Red Butler. And that just didn't seem _or_ feel right. Although the moment that occurred to him that, too —just like his memories— seemed to evaporate.

"A likely story!" came an officious voice, as the most beautiful horse he'd ever seen (which, considering he couldn't remember much at all, was also, at the moment, the _first_ horse he'd seen; even so, there was just something about _this_ one that, well . . . yanno?) pushed his way to the fore and stood next to Red. "You probably can't remember anything because Murky just made you. Hmf! Like we'd fall for _that!_"

This was all coming at him way too fast. His head was hurting again, this time bad enough that little sparkles of light were flashing in his eyes, and his tummy, well . . . his tummy was all achy-queasy too. "_No!_ No, he didn't!" he managed to groan out, clutching his head again. "I don't know why I'm here or much of anything else, but one thing I know for sure is that Murky _didn't make me_."

"We don't have time to chitchat!" Buddy called out from the group. The sprites were still chattering away and making Brownie's head ache even more, and he was desperately trying to marshal his thoughts. It was as if there was something in the back of his head, something _really_ important, that needed to come out, but for the life of him he was too confused and stunned and disoriented to think clearly. "We have to get Rainbow's belt back, and soon! We only have until nightfall, and not even Moonglo can stop night from coming on time!"

Like that a sudden pain struck Brownie, right behind the eyes. With a groan he sank to his knees. "Wait, _please!_" he managed to whimper. "I've _got_ her belt!"

Red snorted. "Yeah, ri-iiiight. Tell us another one. Someone we've never seen, who 'just happens' to look like a Color Kid," he disdainfully snorted again, "and a cheesy fake one at that —_if_ you could call brown a color, that is; Lurky probably thinks it is—" There were several giggles from the group behind him at that. "And who 'just happens' to have 'no memory', also 'just happens' to have Rainbow's belt. That's just a bit too many 'just happens' for me! If that's the best Murky can come up with _this_ time, we won't have any trouble at all. Come on everyone!" Red called out, waving them to go on with him.

"No, _wait!_ I'm telling the truth! Just look!" Brownie fumbled in his belt pouch for the Color Belt tucked inside. But Red wasn't having any of this.

"Starlite! Watch him! Don't let him follow us. Wait until we get far enough ahead then you come gallop and catch up with us."

Starlite tossed his head, his glorious rainbow-hued mane shimmering even there in the Pits. "I'll make sure he doesn't follow. No creature or invention of Murky Dismal's will get past the most magnificent horse in the universe!"

There was nothing Brownie could do or say. All he could do was stand there and helplessly watch everyone race up the path. He begged with Starlite; he pleaded and implored. But Starlite had the (proverbial) bit in his teeth and was having none of it. Brownie even told Starlite what little he'd overheard of Murky's plans.

_'The first thing they do is come right to the Pits to get it back. They _always_ do that. And they'll do the same thing _this_ time! Except, _this_ time . . . !'_

"Don't you see Starlite? He _expects_ them to go there! He _wants_ them to go there! And they don't have to because what they're looking for isn't _there_! It's _here_!"

Reaching back inside his belt pouch he withdrew the Color belt. _"See?"_ he cried, holding it up. Surely _Starlite_ should recognize it!

Alas for Brownie, Murky was quite known for counterfeiting things. Perhaps if a sprite, or a Color Kid, had found the belt in similar circumstances, things would be different. But they hadn't, and so they weren't.

Well, there was no point in further pleading he dully realized. Starlite wasn't listening, and that was that. He glanced up at the sky, trying to see how close to nightfall it was, but the Pits was too gloomy to reveal anything of the sky above. Brownie had no idea at all what importance nightfall had concerning the Color Belt, but what he did know was asking Starlite about that would be pointless.

Rolling the belt up again he carefully stored it back in his belt pouch before turning away and starting back down the path. He didn't bother saying goodbye to Starlite although, before he took more than a couple of steps he did turn around and softly murmur, "Good luck. I hope you won't need it but I'm pretty sure you will." Starlite lifted his nose regally in the air, disdainfully snorted, reared up then galloped off.

Well, he thought, at least with all seven Color Kids heading up the path, along with a . . . just what did you call it? A spangle of sprites? Well, somehow he didn't think he needed to worry about Murky spotting him now!

What he _was_ worrying about was reaching Rainbow Land in time. He still didn't know how far away that was. Or _where_, exactly, it was. And then it wasn't just reaching Rainbow Land but getting to the Color Castle after that. Assuming that's where Rainbow Brite was, of course.

He was already tired and quickly getting winded again. Darn it, why couldn't he be as athletic as Buddy Blue or Patty O'Green? He bet neither of _those_ two would get winded from a run like this! Pausing a moment to catch his breath —and rub the stitch in his side again— Brownie wished he had a horse. Softly, sadly sighing, he wistfully remembered having a horse once. Although the memory of where and how and why was fleeting, quickly disappearing like all the others, this time the actual memory of his horse stayed with him. _Oh _that_ would go over well_, he thought. _I can just picture their expressions if I had a horse! Jeez!_

Still, he couldn't get the image of his horse out of his mind. He remembered him like it was yesterday. Remembered grooming him. Riding him. Although the memories were sorta foggy in places. Actually, foggiest where it came to remembering himself, and much clearer when it came to remembering his hors—

_*Wham*_

Rounding a corner at a jog he ran right into something. Ran into it so hard he bounced back, landing on his rump. Ran into it so hard his nose felt broke and he saw stars. Actual, literal stars, too, he realized! Tiny twinkling stars that circled his head, gradually fading.

Groaning he sat up, gently touching his tender nose. Then felt his eyes widen as he found himself staring at a pair of brown, furred legs. He looked up. And up. And up. Then his breath caught as his eyes locked onto a pair of huge, very deep, liquid brown eyes.

"Sssssam?" he stuttered, pushing himself up. "Is . . . is that you?" he whispered, sounding awestruck and stunned.

A huge blocky head lowered down, then a velvety soft nose gently touched Brownie's chest. The horse —for that's what was standing there— softly whickered, sounding almost amused.

A long time ago (or so those flickering, fleeting memories seemed to indicate) he'd once owned a horse. A big, handsome bay Belgian, with wheaten, flaxen mane and tail. He'd had only two noticeable spots to his coat: a small cream-colored star (not an actual five-pointed star like you might find here, just a small round spot) on his forehead and another, slightly larger oval one on his left flank. Brownie's eyes widened and widened as he slowly stood up, throbbing nose totally forgotten as he stared at the horse before him. It simply _couldn't_ be Sam. But if it _wasn't_ him, it was either his identical twin or a perfect duplicate.

"Sam?" Brownie whispered, reaching up a small trembling hand and gently cupping the blocky muzzle before him. The horse softly whickered, almost as if replying. Which was really silly, after all.

There was no comparison between Sam and Starlite save both were horses. Where Starlite was lean and fleet and, well, magnificent, Sam was huge and bulky and blocky. He _was_ a draft breed after all. In fact, Belgians looked like slightly smaller versions of Clydesdales. They even had feathers over their hooves, although not as thick and heavy. But for all that massiveness there was a grace to him as well. No one would ever confuse his size with clumsiness or ungainliness.

Just _how_ big he was suddenly became apparent when Brownie really _looked_ at Sam. A fleeting memory flickered for a moment, one where he was standing alongside his horse, his head just about level with Sam's withers. Well, that certainly wasn't the case now! Now, the top of his head didn't even reach the bottom of Sam's barrel! How the heck was he supposed to mount??

Assuming he _should_ mount, he abruptly stilled. Running (literally; Brownie rubbed his sore, tender nose) into the horse he used to have, like had just happened, simply seemed too . . . convenient? Fortuitous? What if this was a trick of Murky's? Some sort of trap? Maybe anyone who desperately needed something and thought of it would have it appear? That sounded like something Murky would think of. Although, well . . . it also sounded like something too clever and complicated for Murky to actually pull off and succeed.

Then again, Brownie really didn't know all that much about Murky. All he had to go by were the stories someone had told him, once, and very long ago. Brownie blinked at that, then frowned and stamped his foot as that memory vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Darnnit, he was getting really tired of that!

Sam butted his head gently against Brownie's chest as he stood there dithering, and without thinking about it he reached up and started scratching just behind Sam's jaw. Sam's eyes softly closed and he gave a blissful sigh, and that abruptly jerked Brownie back from his musings. That was exactly where he liked being scratched the best, and not even Murky Dismal would have known that. Somehow —and he didn't have any idea how _or_ why, not at all— this really was Sam!

Tipping his head way way back Brownie looked way up. He might have settled the issue whether this really was his horse, but he still had the problem of figuring out how to get way the heck up there on Sam's back! However did Rainbow manage mounting Starlite??

Sam gave an amused snort then, quite gracefully, lowered himself down, forelegs first, until he was kneeling. "Oooo! Thanks!" Brownie happily said, eyes lighting up. "That'll be a big help!" And it was, too, although he still had to clamber and climb his way up onto Sam's back. Once atop, though, two more not-so-trivial matters became apparent. The first was that Sam was a rather big horse. And big didn't mean just _tall_; it meant _wide_, too! Brownie simply couldn't sit astraddle at all. His legs stuck out in front, draped against Sam's neck and dangling down in front. Not exactly the most comfortable or secure of perches!

Especially when you considered matter number two. Which was, more accurately, two _and_ three. For Sam, of course, didn't have a saddle. And while Brownie _had_ ridden his horse bareback quite often, he hadn't done so at the size he now was. And complicating that was Sam's roached mane, which was trimmed very short and resembled a bristle brush rather than a long, glorious mane like Starlite's. There wasn't very much at all to hold onto, and when Brownie looked to the side, then down . . . and down . . . and down . . . he swallowed very hard, audibly gulping. It was a _very_ long way down! Much longer than he remembered!

Sam softly whickered, lifting up a dinner-plate sized hoof and gently setting it back down again. There was no mistaking the meaning: _'Are you ready yet?'_ Well . . . no, not really. But sitting way up here wasn't getting him any closer to Rainbow Land so, with another deep swallow, Brownie nodded. "Let's go boy," he tremulously whispered, clutching the little bit of mane left at the very base.

_'This isn't _too_ bad,'_ Brownie thought, as Sam slowly turned about until facing down the road then started slowly walking. "Eep!" he squeaked, clutching tighter as Sam slowly shifted into a sitting trot, then increased to an extended one. Poor Brownie started bouncing up and down, struggling to find his balance and post along with the motion. He didn't have to struggle long, however, for Sam kept accelerating, shifting into a (thankfully!) much smoother canter. But while it was smoother . . . it was also much, _much_ faster!

Ta-Ta-_Tum!_ Ta-Ta-_Tum!_ Ta-Ta-_Tum!_ The sounds of hooves were a rhythmic tattoo pounding against the road, and Brownie took one look at the speed they were moving and squeaked again, tightly closing his eyes and, leaning forward, wrapping arms even tighter around Sam's massive neck. '_Please don't gallop, please don't gallop!'_ he mentally chanted, with utter fervent sincerity. Sam whickered again, an amused but kindly sound.

Because his eyes were as tightly closed as Murky Dismal's heart Brownie didn't see the first glimpse of Rainbow Land appear at the end of the road. In fact, it wasn't until Sam cantered past the roiling mists at the end of the Pits and into Rainbow Land itself that Brownie was aware they'd reached there. But even with his eyes closed he realized they'd made it.

The moment they passed the border suddenly he felt his spirits lift. He felt the warmth of golden sunlight on him, smelled the fragrance of flowers that abundantly bloomed everywhere in a wealth and riot of color. And when _he_ did open his eyes at last . . .

"Oh my!" he breathed, an awed whisper of wondrous joy and delight. Never, _ever_ could he have imagined _this_! It was beyond words, beyond description: Rainbow Land truly needed seeing to be believed!

Sitting up he gazed around in wide-eyed enchantment, forgetting in the moment his precarious perch. He gazed all around as scenery whipped by, his eyes drinking everything in like a dry sponge dipped in a pail of water. Oh, this was all so marvelous! Clapping his hands he caroled in joy.

Then suddenly that elation vanished, whipped away and replaced by dread. That had to be the Color Castle way up ahead. It simply couldn't be anything else. But that wasn't what had alarmed and dismayed him. No, it was the looming, roiling, seething mass of brooding black clouds overtop the Castle that had his throat abruptly tighten. That, and a quick glance at the horizon, where the sun was sinking. Nightfall didn't look very long at all in coming. He swallowed hard, clutched Sam tighter and urged him even faster, pressing down his fear of that, more concerned with reaching the Color Castle —and hopefully Rainbow Brite— in time. He had no idea what that awful cloud of Murky's was supposed to do, but whatever that was it couldn't possibly be good! Although . . .

Although the closer they came to the Castle (and by now Sam was moving very _very_ fast!) the odder that cloud looked. It was quite brooding, threatening even. It just didn't look, well, menacing? Still, Brownie was quite sure it didn't belong there. And so, quite obviously, it was a sign of something dreadfully wrong.

Hopefully, _whatever_ it portended, once he found Rainbow Brite and returned her belt everything would be fixed!


	3. A Storm on the Horizon

A Storm on the Horizon

Once they left the open fields and colorful meadows and started down the lanes towards the Color Castle Sam started slowing down, gradually shifting from a gallop to a canter then, finally, a slow trot. Sprites were everywhere but no sooner did they see Brownie and Sam headed their way then they dropped whatever they were doing and, with shrill squeaks and cries, bolted inside their homes, slamming the doors behind them.

Brownie really didn't blame them although he felt bad for scaring them. He supposed that if he were a sprite, and something bad had happened to Rainbow Brite, _he'd_ be a bit scared, too, if a stranger came galumphing unannounced into Rainbow Land!

Brownie's attention shifted from the hovering, ominous cloud and the Color Castle to watching where they were going. He didn't want to accidentally run into a sprite after all. Or go crashing through a garden and step all over lovingly tended flowerbeds. Or . . .

"Wait! No! _Whoa!_"

Trotting around a corner the Color Castle was straight ahead. And so were two sprites, both green, pushing a cart full of flowers. They took one look at the huge unfamiliar horse trotting their way and bolted . . . leaving the cart blocking the lane. And Sam wasn't stopping. He wasn't even _slowing!_

_"Eeeeeeeeee!"_

Clutching tightly Brownie held on for dear life. He felt Sam's muscles bunch . . . then felt a gentle lift . . . then a thump as they landed, Sam having vaulted the cart in a single, utterly smooth glide. His hooves lightly drummed as he trotted towards the Color Castle, and the whicker he made sounded both amused and teasing, almost as if he was saying, _'What? You didn't think I could jump that itty bitty cart?'_

Actually Brownie was positive Sam could jump the cart. He just wasn't so sure _he'd_ manage making it over along with Sam!

Trotting towards the wood bridge leading to the main entrance of the Color Castle Brownie glanced back up at the roiling black cloud overhead. He hadn't been mistaken: it was, beyond any doubt, exactly overhead the Color Castle. They slowed to a slow walk as they reached the bridge, and Sam's hooves made a deep, echoing clop with each step. Something just . . . didn't feel right. He'd seen sprites all over the place on the way here but, now that he was _at_ the Color Castle, well . . . it seemed empty.

He'd just reached the middle of the bridge when three things happened, all at the same time. He got a sudden pins-and-needles feeling all over; Sam must have, too, for his head jerked up, he came to an abrupt stop and he whickered in alarm. A strident, fierce, high-pitched voice called out, "Stop _right_ there! Or _else!_" And from within the depths of the Castle strode a horse and rider.

And not just _any_ horse and rider either!

It was Stormy, and she was certainly living up to her name, a truly ferocious, thunderous expression on her face. One little hand was fisted and held straight up, overhead, while her other imperiously pointed a finger straight down to the ground in front of him. "Hold it right there!" she demanded, as Skydancer belled his own challenge, a truly wild neigh, nostrils flared wide, revealing the deep red interior. The bridge jolted as Skydancer pawed the planks, and all Brownie could think of was, 'Oh jeeez! It's _Stormy!_'

Well, that explained the cloud overhead. That _had_ to be a thunderhead. And the pins-and-needles he was still feeling simply had to be a lightning bolt somewhere up there. And one with his name on it, too! Ooooh, he was going to have to be _very_ careful indeed!

He didn't know much about Stormy, to be honest. Well, other than both name and personality seemed a perfect match. And he certainly hadn't expected to run into her! Actually, he hadn't thought he'd find anyone here but sprites, since all seven of the Color Kids had been headed up to Murky's. But now that he thought about it (which wasn't exactly easy to do, what with his heart pounding and his mouth suddenly dry as sand) he did remember about Stormy. And wasn't there two others, as well?

_Ah. That must be them,_ he thought, spotting two headed peeking around the main entrance, one at each side. _That one must be Moonglo,_ he reasoned, as the other had light pink hair pulled into pigtails held in place by two wide yellow ribbons. That one, then, must be Tickled Pink.

He didn't spend but a moment thinking about them, though. Not when he had the immediate problem of a quite literal storm brewing right before him!

"OK. I'm stopped. Now what?"

Stormy blinked at that. She hadn't expected a response like that! Keeping one tightly fisted hand overhead she demanded, "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"

Brownie tried not to sigh. Which was actually pretty easy to do when facing a fiery, thunderous girl capable of blasting you with bolts of lightning! But he was getting quickly tired of being asked those same questions over and over!

"OK. I'm Brownie," he said, touching his chest with his fingers. "And this is Sam," he continued, patting the top of Sam's head, and _without_ adding the obvious 'my horse'. "And I'm looking for Rainbow Brite. Have you seen her?"

Oh jeez! _That_ didn't go over too well! Both Tickled and Moonglo softly gasped, pulling their heads further behind the doorframe, while Stormy just looked . . . well, even more stormy. The pins-and-needles felt even worse, then Skydancer took several steps closer until his muzzle was almost touching Sam's. Skydancer snorted, frosty plumes jetting out. Sam just gazed down, for he was a bit taller than Skydancer, and simply looked, his expression clearly saying, _'My, how amusing. Do you know any other tricks?' _ Sam, obviously, wasn't a bit awed or impressed by Skydancer.

Brownie wished he could say the same about his feeling regarding Stormy. He certainly was awed and impressed by her! And no little frightened either!

"Why are you looking for Rainbow Brite?" she demanded, leaning forward, a stern jut to her chin as she locked her eyes onto Brownie's. "What business do you have with her?"

He started to answer but found his tongue all tied. She kept staring at him, with a pair of fiery orbs that gleamed and glittered a very unusual, almost sea foam green. They were quite pretty eyes, actually, and he wondered what they looked like when they weren't snapping with anger. Although when they were . . .

He leaned a bit forward, gazing closer. "You know, when you're mad, it looks like little lightning bolts flash in your eyes. It's really quite pretty."

Stormy rocked back a bit, her eyes rounding a little, while twin giggles suddenly pealed from the doorway, and Sam lowered his head and snickered. Suddenly Brownie clapped both hands over his mouth. "Was that out loud?" he asked in a mortified whisper, and the giggles grew even louder. His face abruptly felt sunburned and he ducked his head.

Peeking up he spotted Tickled and Moonglo peering around the door again, this time with huge grins on their faces. His face felt even hotter now, and even his ears felt on fire!

Leaning forward again, fisted hand still upright, Stormy repeated, "Why are you looking for Rainbow Brite?"

All three gasped when Brownie softly replied, "I found her Color Belt. And I have it with me."

Tickled and Moonglo scooted around the doorframe and dashed over, stopping just behind and to either side of Skydancer. "You _do?_" "You _have?_" "Oh, that's _wonderful!_"

Stormy wasn't as impressed. She just stared at Brownie and challenged, "How do we know you're telling the truth? How do we know that's _really_ Rainbow's belt? That it's the _real_ Color Belt? How do we know it's not a trick?"

Softly sighing Brownie held his hands out, palms up. "You don't."

Stormy's brows dangerously lowered as Tickled and Moonglo softly gasped. Brownie just gave a little shrug. "I'm sorry, but you don't know. If I was wicked and evil I'd just lie and promise that it wasn't a trick, that it was the real Color Belt."

Stormy thoughtfully nodded. Clear as day (or, in her case, a winter blizzard) she wanted to believe it was the real Color Belt. But just as clear —and understandable— were her suspicions.

"So I don't know how to assure you. I can do two things, though, and maybe that'll help."

"Oh? Like what?"

"First off, let me tell you how I found it." Brownie carefully explained just how he'd come in possession of Rainbow's belt. He made it very clear that it was just sheer, blind dumb luck that he'd seen Murky hide it away. That he, himself, had been hiding, frightened and terrified of being seen (although he didn't add that he'd, somehow, managed to hide _inside_ the tree instead of just behind it; somehow he thought they'd find that a bit unbelievable. Heck, _he_ still didn't believe it!).

He missed the look Tickled and Moonglo exchanged with each other. As much as they liked Red and Buddy (well, they liked everyone, of course!) neither could ever picture any situation or circumstance where either of the boys would ever admit having been scared, let alone terrified.

Then he related what he'd overheard Murky say about his 'Master Plan'. Then finally told about meeting the Color Kids and Starlite, and how _that_ had turned out.

"I can't say I really blame them," Brownie softly said. "I'm not sure I'd've believed me if I had been them."

At least the pins-and-needles feeling had (mostly) gone away, and Stormy had finally lowered her hand. "OK. So what's the second thing?" she asked.

Taking a deep breath Brownie gazed at Stormy for a moment before leaning his head back and looking up at the sky. "I swear upon the Rainbow, and all that it means," he said, in a very formal tone. Then he lowered his eyes back upon Stormy. "And upon the lighting, and thunder, and wild storms," as Stormy's eyes widened at that. Next he gazed at Moonglo. "And upon the moon and stars above," then finally looked back up at the sky and closed his eyes. "And upon the Sphere of Light," he softly said, "that all I've said is true, and that I believe I carry the real Color Belt."

It grew very quiet after that. Even Skydancer was silent. Finally Moonglo broke the silence. In her low, soft, semi-dreamy voice she pointed to the horizon, where the sun was setting. "We don't have much more time Stormy. It's almost nightfall."

Reaching into his belt pouch Brownie removed the Color Belt at last. Holding it across both palms he offered it to Stormy. "Please," he softly begged. "Rainbow needs this."

He didn't know what finally the deciding factor had been. Maybe it was all of it. Stormy nibbled her lip, glanced at the setting sun then gazed back at him, a look of fleeting desperation in her eyes. She was a free spirit, very self-sufficient and self-reliant, and not at all dependent upon others. And she liked it that way. Oh, yes, having friends was nice, too, she'd learned. As was pitching in and lending a helping hand now and then.

When doing that didn't get in the way of making a huge storm that is!

But this?

Whoa there!

It was one thing to pitch in and help out now and then. But right now, right this moment, Rainbow Brite was under a spell and in terrible danger, with the setting sun a sign of how little time remained. Her Color Belt was missing, stolen by that awful Murky Dismal, and all the Color Kids save Tickled Pink were gone as well.

Normally when Rainbow was absent Red Butler took charge. Or, if not him, then Twink, Rainbow's sprite and friend, and de facto chief of all the sprites. Not that Stormy was in Rainbow Land all that often, but she couldn't remember a time that one or the other hadn't been present. But right now, it was her, and Tickled Pink, and Moonglo. And Red had specifically asked her —_her!_— if she'd please watch over and guard Rainbow Land and Rainbow Brite until he and the others returned with Rainbow's Color Belt.

Except it didn't look as if they'd be returning. Or, at least, not any time soon. And if this Brownie character was right, they might not be returning at all! And even if they did, they sure wouldn't have Rainbow's belt, not if _he_ really had it!

Stormy wasn't used to making decisions this terribly important. It was one thing to decide whether to snow five or six inches, or to toss in a few extra lightning bolts in a thunderstorm. But this time she literally had the fate of Rainbow Land in her hands, and her decision could spell the salvation or destruction of Rainbow Land, and of colors and happiness everywhere!

She nudged Skydancer with a knee, turning him 'round. "This way," she said, as the wood planks thunked under her horse's hooves. "Rainbow's inside. And this better not be a trick!" she growled, as the roiling cloud high overhead rumbled as well. "Your horse may be fast, but he can't outrun my lightning!"

Brownie just stood there. "Maybe you should bring her outside then," he said after a couple of seconds.

"Why?" Stormy asked, suspicion quickly blossoming again. Then was quite shocked at his answer.

"Once we're in the Castle it'll be kinda hard to get a lightning bolt inside," he said. "Actually, almost impossible I'd think. At least without accidentally hitting anything or anyone else. So if it'll make you feel better, I can wait out here until Rainbow comes or you bring her."

Looking over her shoulder she waved him on. "Oh, I wouldn't be _too_ sure of that!" she said, sounding fierce but her eyes twinkling this time as a little smile played on her face. Actually he was right: it _would_ be very hard. But the fact that he'd said that, and was willing to wait outside where she _definitely_ wouldn't have a problem, well . . . that made her feel a lot better about this whole affair.

Brownie followed Stormy and the others inside. Tall as the top of the doorway was, Brownie still had to lean way over Sam's neck, and his back still brushed up against the top of the frame. Once inside he straightened up, and his eyes rounded as he did, looking all around in awe.

There, right in the middle of the room, was the Color Console itself! It looked dark at the moment, the color pipes and ball dim and unlit. Then again, none of the Color Kids were sitting at their stations, so perhaps that was it. At the back of the wide, spacious room were two sloping staircases heading up, each step its own vibrant hue, making it look like twin rainbows had formed the stairs.

But his attention was immediately captured, his breath catching in a gasp, by the small spangle of sprites gathered near the Color Console. For in their midst, surrounded by them, was Rainbow Brite herself!

A Rainbow Brite who, dreadfully obvious, was in dire straits, for she seemed frozen, like a statue, not moving at all, and surrounded by a dull gray shimmer that was barely visible but definitely didn't look good.

Without thinking Brownie dismounted, sliding off Sam's back. _"Ahhhh!"_ then _"Ow!"_ as he dropped from high up and landed on his rump. His face felt on fire again he stood up then waited for Stormy to dismount, too. Which she did, with far more grace than _he_ had!

"What happened to her?" he asked Stormy as they walked over. Both were instantly surrounded by anxious worried sprites that chattered away at high speed. "Did you get the belt?" "Is Rainbow going to be OK?" "Have you seen Indigo? Is she OK?" (that was Hammy, of course)

"Shhhh!" Stormy hushed the sprites. Turning to face Brownie she answered him. "I don't know. _We_ don't know. They told me that Rainbow had gone out after lunch for a walk with Puppy Brite. She was taking a break from coloring all the fall leaves. They'll be falling soon, you know. Then it's _my_ turn!" she smugly said, then her face fell as she looked back at the seemingly-frozen Rainbow. "Next thing they knew Puppy Brite was racing back inside, barking like mad. And when they all ran out, they found Rainbow already like this, with Murky holding her Color Belt and fiendishly laughing as Lurky drove off."

Whatever had happened sure seemed to have happened fast. Rainbow's hand was almost to her mouth, which was partially opened as if she'd been frozen in the middle of drawing a startled gasp.

"So . . . what are we supposed to do?" Brownie asked.

"Don't you know?" Tickled softly spoke up.

"Who, _me_?" Brownie asked, shocked. "How would _I_ know what to do?"

Moonglo gave a little shrug, as if saying 'Don't ask me.'

"I . . . I don't know what to do either," Stormy said, sounding unhappy. "Red just asked me if I'd watch over and guard Rainbow Land while he and the others were gone. I knew they were after Rainbow's Color Belt, but I didn't know why they needed it so badly. Well, other than the obvious reason," she gave a little shrug. "I just assumed," she unhappily admitted, "they'd know what to do with it once they had it."

Moonglo suddenly gasped. "It's almost nightfall!"

Brownie looked over his shoulder at the doorway behind him. It was decidedly darker outside. Not _quite_ night yet, no. But it certainly was twilight already; dusk had definitely arrived. And while _this_ twilight was certainly much more inviting than the perpetual gloomy one in the Pits, there was also something decidedly ominous about the arrival of dusk tonight.

"Stormy, here," Brownie said, thrusting the belt at her.

Stormy almost recoiled, eyes wide and hands up in front of her as if to push the belt away. "I don't want it! It's not mine!"

"Put it on Rainbow!" he said.

"_Me?_ Why don't _you_ do it?"

Actually the only real reason Brownie wasn't putting it on Rainbow was, well, silly as it sounded, he felt very awkward and self-conscious about doing that. Rainbow _was_ a girl after all, and well . . . yanno? It just didn't feel right or proper.

"Oh here!" Tickled said, taking the belt from Brownie with an exasperated yet amused look. _"Boys!"_ she snorted, eyes twinkling.

_"Wait!"_ Brownie suddenly cried out.

Tickled froze while Moonglo and Stormy looked at him. "What?" Tickled asked.

Looking around Brownie pointed to some of the sprites. "Can you bring us star sprinkles please? As many as you can carry, and of all the colors. And as fast as you can, too!"

"OK!" "You bet!" "Sure thing!" "We'll be right back!"

All the sprites dashed off, eager to help and happy to have something positive, helpful and useful to do at last. Brownie felt quite relieved and grateful that, for once, someone wasn't questioning him or his motives.

"Why do you want all those star sprinkles?" Stormy asked. For a change she didn't sound challenging; instead she simply sounded curious.

"Uhhh—," Stormy's question caught him off-guard. Just why _had_ he blurted that out? He tried marshalling his thoughts, but having all three of them gazing at him the way they were wasn't making that terribly easy.

"Well," he finally said, his words coming quite slow. "Rainbow's belt uses star sprinkles, right? Sometimes she uses her belt to power star sprinkles, but sometimes she uses star sprinkles to power her belt, yes?"

Both Moonglo and Tickled firmly nodded right away, with Stormy following a few seconds after them, her nod a bit slower. Her powers were much different than Rainbow's and, unlike either Moonglo or Tickled —or Rainbow Brite herself, for that matter— didn't require silly things like color crystals or star sprinkles. And unlike the two girls, she didn't really have all that much experience with the 'inner workings' of Rainbow Land. But she did seem to remember a time or two when Rainbow had used star sprinkles to energize her belt . . . or at least she'd thought that was what Rainbow had been doing. Sneaking a peek at Moonglo and Tickled she felt a lot better at how positive _those_ two seemed to be.

"Well then," Brownie continued. "I just think it would be a good idea to have star sprinkles ready if she needed them, than to have her need them and not have any right at hand."

Well, _that_ sure made sense, all three girls thought. But what he said next threw them all a curve.

"Especially since that shimmer around her gives me the creeps and willies."

"Erm . . . ah . . . what 'shimmer'?" Tickled asked.

"The one that's all around her," Brownie answered. Then he felt quite awkward and insecure at the look all three of them were giving him. "You know! That grayish eerie shimmer?" he said, an almost desperate hopeful lift to his tone.

The three peeked at Rainbow, then back at Brownie. Then peeked at Rainbow again, then back to him once more. He felt about an inch tall at their expressions, and he really didn't have to hear them say anything to realize _they_ weren't seeing any such shimmer!

"I don't see anything," Tickled softly said, not wanting to make Brownie feel bad but, well, she honestly really couldn't see anything like a shimmer. "How about you Moonglo? Stormy?"

Stormy just shrugged and shook her head, light purple tresses billowing like wind-tossed clouds while her single light purple-and-sea foam green braid whipped about. She didn't need to look a third time to make sure. Moonglo, however, did take a third, much longer glance, intently gazing at Rainbow, tipping her head back and forth. "I'm sorry Brownie," she softly said in a dreamy tone. "But I don't see anything like a shimmer."

Holding his hand up to his head Brownie sighed. _'Great!'_ he thought. _'Just spiffy keen great! Now they all think I'm batty!'_

"We got 'em we got 'em!" "Here you go!" "Is this enough?" "Hey, watch out! Don't spill them!" "Gangway!" "Now what?"

Brownie spun around, extremely grateful for the arrival of the sprites, each one carrying a big pail of star sprinkles. At least they'd helped provide a distraction from what was quickly growing into an uncomfortable, unnerving situation!

"OK, great! That was really quick!" he praised. "Now just set the buckets down close to Rainbow, so if she needs them they're right there." Within two blinks they'd done just that. "OK now, Tickled?" he said, looking at her. "I guess we're as set as we can be. Try putting her belt on now, OK?"

Tickled nodded then stepped behind Rainbow. Reaching around she snaked the Color Belt around Rainbow's waist, concentrating so hard the tip of her (pink, of course) tongue peeked out past her lips. Almost a minute passed, during which everyone fretted, the sprites most of all. "Hurry Tickled!" one cried out, then they all started chiming in. "Oh yes hurry!!" "Please hurry!" "Oh, is Rainbow gonna be all right?" "Oh I wish Red was here!" (That was Romeo, of course).

"What's taking so long?" Stormy grumbled.

Tickled cutely grunted as she struggled to attach the belt. "I dunno," she muttered, tongue tip sticking out even more now. "This is harder than it looks!"

It hadn't looked all _that_ hard to Brownie. Then again he'd never tried fastening a belt around anyone before. One thing for certain sure, he knew: if _he'd_ have tried putting the belt on he'd probably have dropped it several times by now, and his face would have been brighter pink than Tickled's tresses!

_"There!"_ Tickled triumphantly cried. "Got it!" She stood back as everyone watched, holding his or her breath.

And held . . . and held . . . and held.

"Sunny skies and fair weather!" Stormy cried, stomping her foot, as far overhead came an ominous rumble. "Now what? Why isn't anything happening?"

"I don't _know!_" Tickled wailed, looking close to tears.

Brownie found himself moving before he realized he was. It was like . . . something . . . was driving him. Without thinking about it, without considering all the possible ramifications, he stepped past Stormy and Moonglo, eased his way through the agitated, frantic spangle of sprites and the pile of buckets and pails, and walked right up in front of Rainbow.

Walked right up . . .

And touched the rainbow arch at the front of Rainbow's belt.

A brilliant, coruscating flash so bright it literally stunned him knocked him backwards several steps, as the girls and sprites all squeaked, squealed or yelped. Tripping over a bucket behind him Brownie wound up with his bottom almost stuck in the pail of star sprinkles, as in front of him a dazzling, eye-tearing explosion of light burst out. A wide rainbow band of light streamed from the color belt, in a blink of an eye winding its way 'round and 'round Rainbow until she was completely enveloped in radiant, luminous hues.

It continued for seconds . . . and seconds . . . and seconds. And now there was a tooth-aching whine right at the edge of hearing. It brought tears to Brownie's eyes, and all the sprites clapped hands over their ears. The girls, too, winced, although Stormy was the only one that didn't cover her ears. She just gritted her teeth and unblinkingly stared at the blinding blaze of light before her.

And then that whine started fading . . . as the rainbow started dimming. As Moonglo gasped, a hand to her lips. "It's nightfall!" she cried out.

Squirming and struggling Brownie finally tipped the bucket over and made an undignified exit from the impromptu prison. Sprawling on the floor he looked up. Looked up and saw the rainbow within that sinister gray shimmer start fading. _"The star sprinkles!"_ he cried out. "Throw them on her!"

Everyone seemed frozen in place, the sprites most of all. Brownie stopped trying to regain his feet. Instead he scooped up a double handful of star sprinkles (they happened to be red ones) and tossed them at Rainbow, who was utterly encased and obscured behind the wavering, fading rainbow.

They disappeared as soon as they'd landed. But the rainbow visibly brightened, too. _"Throw the star sprinkles!"_ Stormy and Tickled hollered out, suiting action to words. Within moments every sprite, all three girls and Brownie were pitching handful after handful of star sprinkles, each handful imparting strength and brightness to the now pulsing and straining rainbow cocoon.

_*FOOM*_

Suddenly the rainbow cocoon exploded outwards, an expanding sphere that faded as it swelled. The tooth-grating whine vanished in an instant. And there stood Rainbow Brite, eyes widening as she gasped, hand finally reaching her opened mouth, finishing the gasp of shock and surprise she'd started hours ago.

_"RAINBOW!"_

Every voice but one simultaneously shouted out Rainbow's name. The sprites then erupted in excited, happy and relieved cheers as they danced and capered about, and Tickled and Moonglo's were just as exuberant. And Stormy's wasn't all _that_ much softer, to be honest. Only Brownie hadn't yelled out, and that was because he'd been too stunned by the blast that had freed Rainbow.

"Ooooooh!"

Rainbow suddenly wobbled, face turning quite pale. Before her knees could actually buckle she was instantly supported by all the sprites. "Rainbow! Are you all right?" "What's wrong?" "Are you OK?" "Do you need to sit?" "How about some water?" "Help her sit down!"

Moonglo was weaving back and forth on her feet, looking terribly torn. "I have to go! It's nightfall! I'm sorry!"

"It's OK Moonglo. We know. Thanks for your help. We'll be all right . . . now," Tickled said, giving Moonglo an encouraging smile.

Moonglo gave a quick, distracted wave as she scooted to the door, almost bowling over Nite Sprite who was, at that very moment, dashing inside to find Moonglo. Moments later they were both off in the dark, heading off to do their nightly work together.

In the meantime the sprites inside were helping a very groggy, very woozy and wobbly Rainbow over to her emergency bed. While all the Color Kids had their own suite —as did Rainbow herself— there were rare occasions when they slept on the ground floor. Usually because of Murky and Lurky's doings, or similar situations when Rainbow Land or its residents might be in immediate danger. That way they had safety in numbers, plus could instantly answer any immediate crisis.

Tickled turned down the top sheet and blanket while Stormy stood at the other side of the bed, watching as the sprites helped Rainbow sit down. Brownie, though, remained sprawled on the floor, still feeling quite weak. He'd also lost his glasses, and was carefully patting the ground searching for them. That had been a truly spectacular light explosion, he thought. He could have sworn, though, that that ominous shimmer he'd seen earlier had seemed to explode outwards as well, although shattered into a bazillion pieces.

Finally locating his glasses Brownie was very relieved to find they hadn't broken. He wasn't quite blind as a bat without them, no. Then again, as bats weren't exactly blind, and as they saw more with their ears than their eyes . . .

Rolling up onto his knees he slipped his glasses back on. He really hadn't been sure what to expect, but having a rainbow go off in his face like that hadn't been anything he'd pictured. Nor had he imagined Rainbow being anything other than alert and OK afterwards. _That_ he'd pictured, yes: having her, well, 'cured', and everything back to normal, once they'd put her belt on. Somehow he'd envisioned that once Rainbow had her belt back again she'd be fine. Wasn't that the way things were _supposed_ to happen, after all?

_'OK, maybe my glasses _did_ get messed up'_, Brownie thought, softly frowning. He was seeing the oddest sparkles. Like dull, dark gray glittering on the floor; crystalline splinters that were slithering and moving.

_'Huh!?'_

Taking his glasses off he used the hem of his tunic to rub and polish the lenses. Maybe he got star sprinkle dust on them or something. Slipping them back on again he peered towards the doorway.

"Ummm . . . Stormy?"

Stormy was a bit preoccupied at the moment, watching as Tickled got Rainbow tucked in. Once Rainbow was snugly tucked in and comfy, though —hail and sleet! — did she ever have a bunch of questions for her!

"Ummm . . . ahhh . . . Stormy?"

Rainbow looked up at Tickled, her normally lively and sparkling eyes dulled with terrible fatigue and something much worse: etched into those depths was terrible despair and desolation, as if she'd seen a glimpse of something unspeakable, bleak and despairing. "The Achromic Abyss," she tremulously whispered.

"What was that Rainbow?" Tickled asked, leaning closer. As did Stormy, for Rainbow's voice was barely audible.

"The Achromic Abyss," Rainbow whispered again, shuddering as she did. "Murky . . . Murky was trying to banish me to the Achromic Abyss."

Stormy looked at Tickled, who shrugged in response to Stormy's unspoken question. "I've never heard of that," she admitted. "Sounds pretty awful though if you ask me."

"STORMY!"

"WHAT!?" Stormy yelled, turning around and glaring at Brownie, her expression abruptly thunderous again. Couldn't he see she was doing something importa­—

Oh.

Oh my.

"Ummm . . . could you do something about that?" Brownie asked in a very calm, almost _too_ calm voice as he pointed at the doorway. "Maybe? Please?"

Actually, it wasn't the doorway he was pointing at. It was what was _in_ the doorway.

Well, she assumed _something_ was in the doorway, at any rate, as she no longer could see outside _through_ the doorway. However, try as she might she couldn't actually see anything _in_ the doorway, though. But something was there, that she felt very sure of. And whatever that something might be, she had the oddest sensation of being . . . pulled . . . dragged . . . towards it. Drawn the same way, she imagined, that leaves and debris were drawn towards and inside one of her very rare funnel clouds. A sort of inexorable vacuum suction.

Brownie looked so pale he resembled white pine, she saw out of the corner of her eye. Just as she noticed him suddenly lurch sideways on his knees, interposing himself between her and . . . whatever the thaw that was.

And whatever it was seemed to, well, slowly start flowing towards her. Rather like congealing, sickly syrup. Although she wasn't quite sure if it was as much flowing towards her as she was being drawn towards it.

For a moment she felt an emotion she wasn't at all used to feeling: fear. And then suddenly that fear vanished, blown out like a candle in a fierce wind, as an equally fierce fury rose inside her. Skydancer abruptly whinnied as he reared up, screaming a long, loud neigh of defiance as Stormy raised both tightly fisted hands high up in the air over her head, her lightning barrette glowing like molten gold.

_"Duck!"_ she yelled out. Brownie didn't need any coaxing, encouragement or direction. He'd already been heading to the floor the moment he caught Stormy's expression. The fact that every hair on his head was standing straight up only speeded his descent.

He really _really_ hoped Stormy could do something. Because the one thing he was absolutely positive about was that _he_ couldn't do a doggone thing!

Brownie had _no_ idea what that thing was. He was also quite sure he never, _ever!_ wanted to find out what it was, either! All he did know was that the glittering, eerie crystalline splinters and shards he'd thought he'd seen had, slowly at first then with a speed that was frightening, slithered across the floor towards each other. And as they'd met they'd joined together, merging somehow, forming a vertical, inwardly spiraling whirlpool.

A gateway.

To a place, a realm, that would make the Pits appear bright and lively and alive in comparison with Rainbow Land.

_****BOOM!!****_

A flash brighter than anything he could have imagined, even brighter than the earlier rainbow explosion, lit the interior of the Color Castle at the same time the detonation lifted him bodily off the floor then slammed him back down into a darkness that swallowed him whole.

******** ******** ******** ******** ******** ********

"You OK?"

Softly groaning, Brownie barely made out the words. His ears were still ringing, and his eyes didn't want to focus for some reason. Dazedly blinking he looked up. Somehow he was now on his back and gazing up at three Stormys that wavered and merged and separated over and over. Three Sams, too, all of which were leaning their heads down and softly whuffling his hair with warm, hay-scented breath.

Weakly he nodded. "I've . . . been better," he groaned.

"_Toldja_ I could get a lightning bolt inside!" Stormy said, a smug little smile on her face. Brownie couldn't help but grin at her expression. She looked so haughty! But if anyone deserved to feel proud and arrogant she certainly did!

He went to sit up, saw the three Stormys suddenly split into six, then his face abruptly grew very warm as his head felt very big and light, and that was the last thing he remembered.


	4. From Little Acorns Grow

From Little Acorns Grow . . .

He shouldn't be out this late at night and he knew it. And if he got caught (as he most likely would be, he knew) he was gonna get a paddlin'. But, right now, he didn't really much care. Tomorrow was Monday, another school day in late October, and he was looking forward to another day at school right up there with being staked out atop an anthill. Actually, the anthill seemed more appealing.

It's not that he disliked school . . . exactly. Actually he liked school for the most part, at least where it came to classes and learning. True, he did struggle with math, yes. At least until he grasped a new concept, and then watch out! And history and social studies were absolute misery. He suspected they might actually be interesting if taught differently, but there must be some sort of unwritten, unofficial rule that said _those_ two classes must only be taught as dry, droning and boring as possible.

What he didn't like about school was, well, the other students. Although it seemed more as if they didn't like _him_. He had no friends, and was constantly bullied when he wasn't being ignored. The ignoring part he could handle. Not particularly _like_, no, but he could handle that. The bullying part, though . . .

So far, fourth grade this year had been particularly bad. It certainly hadn't helped matters that he'd gotten glasses over the summer. That had been bad enough. But Dad had been too tightfisted to buy anything but the cheapest of frames: plain, black plastic monstrosities with giganormous lenses. Needless to say the first month back at school had been particularly hideous.

Now, just as the novelty of his glasses was finally wearing off, today Dad took him for a haircut. And Dad's idea of a haircut was a buzz-cut crewcut. His head now resembled a Chia pet just sprouting! Every time he went to school right after a haircut it was sheer misery. Between the laughing and taunts, the noogies and Indian rub burns . . .

He sighed as he plodded in the pitch dark along the side of the road, the only illumination a gibbous moon high overhead. He was just so tired of being picked on, of being friendless and alone.

He was just passing his neighbor's house down the lane, on his way to the abandoned quarry (well-marked with DANGER signs, and every child told in no uncertain terms to never ever go there . . . which pretty much guaranteed they all did at some point in time) when something sparkled in his lenses. Like a prism flashing and reflecting off them. He stopped and looked around, quite puzzled, then softly gasped before ducking behind a tree.

He didn't see how it was possible, but now there was a boy standing in the front yard. An older boy —which instinctively had him very wary and cautious— who simply hadn't been there moments ago.

"It was nice to visit again Rainbow. Thank you for inviting me and bringing me along," the boy very softly said. _'Huh?'_ he thought. Was the boy crackers or something? Who was he talking to? There was nobody there but him! And 'rainbow'? It hadn't been raining, and besides, it was pitch dark! And who would be talking to a rainbow anyway?

"You're welcome Brian. It's always nice to see you again." His jaw dropped, and he literally struggled to keep from sticking fingertips in his ears and rubbing. That was _not_ a boy's voice. Nope, not at all! It sounded like a first or second grade girl, in fact. But there was nobody there but the boy!

And it wasn't just a girl's voice he heard, either. There was a majestic, melodious, more mature male voice, and a very strange high-pitched squeaky one. But, doggone it, he could only see the boy! This was very _very_ weird!

Finally the boy (who must be Brian, he deduced) said, "Good bye Rainbow. Thanks for the ride Starlite! Bye bye Twink!"

"Bye bye Brian!" "You're welcome, a pleasure as always." "See you Brian!"

Again his glasses gave off a reflected, momentary flash of scintillating colors. For an instant, if that, he would have sworn he saw a shimmery rainbow arch upwards into the sky. But he surely had to have imagined that!

Brian just stood there for several minutes, gazing up into the depths of the night. He finally gave a soft sigh, then turned towards his house. Brian would never have known he was there, but at that moment he felt something tickle the back of his hand and, looking down, saw a spider crawling over his hand. Now he wasn't particularly afraid of spiders; in fact, he rather liked them. But unexpectedly discovering one crawling on him . . .

_"Ahhh!"_ Yelping he yanked his hand back, wildly shaking it.

Brian immediately spun around. "Who's there?" he softly called out.

Oh crud! Now he was in for it! He certainly couldn't outrun Brian. He was older and bigger, and that certainly meant faster. Besides, running only made the beatings worse when they finally caught you. So he stepped out from behind the tree, quaking like a leaf in a gale. "Me," he whispered.

Brian slowly walked over as he shook even harder. "What were you doing there?"

"I . . . I was just out for a walk," he whispered, his words almost stuttered. "I wasn't eavesdropping or spying, _honest!_ Well, not on purpose, anyway," he amended.

_'Whoa!'_ he thought, for Brian, instead of looking angry, instead seemed to turn a sickly grayish-green. "What did you see?" he whispered, sounding aghast and horrified.

He'd never had anyone scared of _him_ before! He'd often daydreamed of the bullies being scared of him but, now that he actually had someone scared he was finding that to be rather unpleasant and uncomfortable. In fact, he didn't like that feeling at all. "I didn't _see_ anything," he softly replied. "I _did_ hear a lot though. Who is 'Rainbow'?"

If anything Brian looked more sickly. He groaned, looking as if his world was crashing down around him. "Look, I can't tell you. It's a secret," he said. "And it's not _my_ secret. No one is ever supposed to know. _Please_ don't tell anyone."

He looked up at Brian, feeling a great deal of sympathy. Which didn't ease his curiosity one bit. Holding his little hand out he gravely, solemnly whispered, "I didn't see or hear a thing." Brian's eyes rounded, shocked and surprised, then suddenly grew very warm, which made him feel very good inside.

"Thank you," he said, shaking his hand. "Listen, I'm sorry, but I gotta go."

He shook his head, understanding. Brian probably didn't want to be caught out of bed this late any more than _he_ did. "It's OK. G'nite."

"Good night. And thanks again!"

He watched Brian tiptoe back to his house then around the back, disappearing from view. For quite a while he stood there, the quarry now forgotten, while his mind replayed events over and over again. He still hadn't puzzled any of that out by the time he'd walked back home, slipped back inside and made it (safely!) back into bed.

In fact, he never _did_ puzzle things out. Not on his own, anyway.

******** ******** ******** ******** ******** ********

With a squeak the school bus door closed behind him, shutting off the chatter from inside. With a rumble of exhaust it slowly pulled away, leaving him standing in front of his house. He stood there for several, very long minutes, as a drizzle misted around him, then began trudging . . . down the lane and away from his house.

He wasn't going home. He was _never_ going home, or to school, or anywhere else, ever again.

Fifteen minutes later he was crawling under a pulled-up section of chain link fence and slithering onto quarry property. Five minutes after that and he was standing in his favorite spot: a jagged point of rock that speared out and over the water of the abandoned and flooded quarry far below. It had to easily be a hundred feet, if not more, down to the water. Yet he stepped out onto the very tip and just stood there, as he had so often before.

Quite often he'd stand there, gazing down at the stone-enclosed mere, the water almost black, several hundred feet deep, whose unruffled surface was as flat as a mirror. And as he gazed down he'd daydream of different places, different worlds, as his eyes slowly unfocused, sightlessly gazing through and past that mirrored plane. Daydream of just closing his eyes, holding his arms out from his sides . . . and just leaning forwards and falling. And falling . . . and falling . . . and falling. Passing from this world and into completely different ones.

Ones where he wasn't lonely and sad, picked on and taunted.

Ones where he felt wanted and needed.

But today . . . today was different. Today he stood there, contemplating leaning forwards, and expecting nothing but a hard, unforgiving surface waiting for him. A few seconds of falling, and everything would finally be peaceful.

"You OK?"

The voice was very soft, as if anxious and worried about causing a fright. Even so his heart jumped into high gear as he spun around. There, standing more safely near the edge was that boy he'd seen several months ago. Brian, that was his name. He hadn't spoken to him since that night.

"I'm fine. Why?" he sullenly replied.

"Cuz you look kinda murked out."

He blinked at that. _'Murked out'?_ What the heck was _that_ supposed to mean?

Then he turned around, facing back out to the quarry again. Maybe if he ignored Brian long enough he'd go away, and then he could finish what he came here for.

"Look. Over there."

Glancing over his should he saw Brian pointing off across the quarry and up to the sky. Facing ahead again he finally looked up . . .

Crossing the sky and spanning the quarry was a perfect, flawless rainbow, arching up in a faultless arch in the vault of the heavens. Glancing down he spotted it reflected in the mirrored surface of the water. He'd never before seen a rainbow that perfect, and somehow it seemed fitting to see such a one, like it was welcoming his final decision.

"She doesn't do that for just anyone you know," Brian softly said. "She must have sensed you were feeling pretty murked out."

_'Huh!?'_

"Who doesn't?" His words were slow, as if physically drawn from him.

"Rainbow."

Now he turned around and faced Brian. He'd never forgotten that very odd, extremely peculiar, night.

Brian just nodded, brushing off a log and sitting down. His expression was quite serious, almost grave.

"Rainbow?" he finally questioned.

Brian nodded. "Actually, her full name is Rainbow Brite, but most everyone just calls her Rainbow. She's the leader of Rainbow Land."

There was nothing anyone could have said or done to have talked him off that jutting granite spear or out of his decision. Not after today.

Today had been the start of the school-wide Science Fair. And he'd worked very _very_ hard the last two months on his project: crystal growing. He'd had twenty jars of crystals, some clear and transparent, some vividly colored. And at least half of them he'd coaxed into growing into patterns. He had some flowers, a tree, even one that he'd grown over very thin wire painstakingly formed into a pony. Plus he had poster boards detailing all the crystals: what they were, what shapes the crystals took when they formed, how you made them into crystals.

What he _didn't_ have that morning was a way of getting all that to school. Dad had promised to take him and his science fair project to school this morning, but a phone call during breakfast had him leave early for work. He'd just hung up the phone, had said 'Gotta run' . . .

. . . and left him there.

By the time he got everything together, packed up and down to the lane he'd just missed the school bus. And as they had only one car . . .

So he'd struggled with his project, facing a long, bleak and hopeless five-mile walk to school. The crystals were very fragile, the box they were packed in seemed enormous when he had to carry it on his own, and his meticulously printed and colored poster boards were getting bent. If a passing neighbor hadn't taken pity on him he'd have arrived at school in time for lunch, if that!

Not that it had mattered in the end. As he'd struggled with his project he couldn't help but notice the other students who had projects. _Their_ parents were helping carry things for them. He seemed to be the only one doing it by himself. Well, he'd have it inside and safe pretty soon, and he'd been eagerly looking forward to people being able to enjoy the pretty crystals he'd created. He didn't care about winning (although that would be nice if he did). He'd just wanted people to enjoy seeing the beautiful and remarkable colors and shapes. That would make everything worthwhi—

_"Oof!"_

Arms flailing for balance, his box went flying as he tripped. Or, more accurately, _was_ tripped.

"Oops! Sorry!" a sniggering voice said.

The box landed with a thud and clink of glass. Before he could get back up a passing student 'accidentally' kicked the box. "Oops! Sorry!"

Again. And again. And again. It was like seeing a soccer ball being passed around. And after each 'accidental' kick there were more and more sniggers and taunting laughter. Until finally the box broke apart, scattering broken jars and water all over the steps. He just sat there, a dull burn of shame on his face and a deeper, smoldering core of despair and utter desolation inside him.

It took ten minutes to collect the debris and discard it all in a nearby trashcan. By then he was late for roll call and was marked tardy, which had simply added insult to injury. By the end of the day he'd finally had enough. There was simply nothing more left inside him any longer.

He'd been utterly convinced there'd been nothing at all in the world that would or could change his mind, but Brian had, somehow, found the way. Against his will he found himself very slowly walking over and standing there, then finally sitting alongside Brian, all the while during which Brian quietly spoke of Rainbow Land and the people there.

If Brian hadn't appeared so solemn and serious he would have been sure he was being teased. But he'd never seen a boy look as earnest as Brian was as he talked. Except he wasn't always grave. His eyes lit up, he grinned and smiled and grew quite animated, laughing at times as he related his tales. Most of which were funny and lighthearted, but a few of them were quite scary and frightening. He learned what being 'murked out' meant, and where that had come from, and admitted to himself that that had been a very accurate description indeed of how he'd been feeling.

It was almost dark by the time Brian finished. The rainbow by now had long gone since faded and vanished, but somehow it seemed as if part of it had remained with him. That, and something Brian had related, something that Rainbow herself had said when things had appeared utterly hopeless and impossible: _'Hope doesn't come from a belt, it comes from inside you'_.

And while he didn't have a belt to lose or to treasure, somehow he still found comfort in those words.

Finally he stood up. "Thank you," he softly said. "I'll always remember, I promise. I'll never forget." Then he gazed very deeply into Brian's eyes. "And I'll never ever tell anyone about this. I'll keep it as secret as you have."

******** ******** ******** ******** ******** ********

He never had told anyone. Nor had he ever forgotten. He didn't see rainbows all that often but, when he did, he took the time to savor and treasure each and every one. Oh, well, yes, he also strained to see if he could spot a flying horse and rider, too. But he'd never felt disappointed when he never did. But he always sneaked a wink and wave upwards . . . just in case.

He dealt with the loss of his father two years later when he suddenly passed away from a heart attack. Too much stress from work was the explanation he'd overheard. Which hadn't surprised him at all. He mourned the loss of his dad; mourned even more the lack of feeling he'd even _had_ a dad. He finished school. Started a job he enjoyed (at first, anyway). Bought his own house, one with a little bit of land and a single stall and paddock. Bought his own horse, something he'd yearned to do for ages. As time passed he'd experienced more tragedies than triumphs, but he stoically endured them all, always holding onto hope and never letting that slide from his fingers or heart.

Then he got laid off from his job. 'Lack of performance' was the reason his employers gave him . . . while his shiftless supervisor took credit, and was rewarded and promoted, for the two years worth of toil and hard effort _he'd_ done.

Then his mom had a stroke, and he had to sell his beloved horse, and his house, to help pay for her care. He moved back home to help care for her, and took whatever jobs he could find.

And now he was standing on that jut of granite again, gazing down at the moon reflected on the shimmering mirrored surface. The funeral had been this morning, and the bank wasn't willing to wait for her life insurance claim to process. In three days they'd be foreclosing on his parents (now his, he supposed, however brief that will be) home. He had no one now. Nothing. And there hadn't even been a rainbow today after the brief shower during the service at the cemetery.

He hadn't lost a belt, but he'd finally lost hope. He simply could not find a single drop to dredge out of the depths of his being and, frankly, he was too tired to even try any more. He'd never measured success in the forms of wealth, or power, or materialism. Nor had he ever lost an almost childlike wonder and delight in the world, although that had been getting harder and harder to maintain as the years inexorably rolled by. There was far more to life than money, or mansions, or paraphernalia. There were smiles and laughter, friendship and helping out.

He just had a difficult time making friends, though. Maybe it was the baggage he'd lugged around since his early school years. He didn't know and wasn't sure. What he _did_ know was that, even now, he didn't have anyone he could call a real, true, friend. _Acquaintances_, yes. But not real _friends_.

And so he found himself poised once more on this precipice, much as he had done so long ago and, like then, facing the same decision. Only, _unlike_ that time, there was no rainbow. There was no concerned person to intercede. In fact, there wasn't even a moon now, as low drifting clouds scudded over the argent gleaming orb overhead, obscuring it.

All it would take is a single step forward. Just one. And he'd finally be at peace for once. Unending, eternal tranquility. It wasn't as if anyone would _miss_ him, after all.

But although he felt himself lean forwards he just couldn't take that step. Not from fear, but because something, very dim and faint but still there deep inside him stirred. He'd treasured for far too long what was obviously a childish fabrication (however well-crafted) but had nevertheless endured. Again he recalled the words, although this time he seemed to hear a voice speak them, so softly it made a whisper seem like a shout: _'Hope doesn't come from a belt, it comes from inside you'_.

_'What must it be like,'_ he wondered, _'to work so terribly hard at a job that most people, _billions_ of people, simply took for granted or, worse, paid no attention to at all? What did that take of a person, to keep doing that day after day, year after year, with nothing as a reward but the knowledge, the _hope_, that your work might brighten their day, even if just a little? And how awful must it feel when someone just gave up on you? Turned their back and just . . . gave up?'_

His cheeks grew wet as tears streamed down them. He was tired. So very _very_ tired. There was nothing, _absolutely nothing_, left inside him. He lifted up his foot . . .

. . . and took a step . . .

. . . _backwards_ . . .

. . . then cried out, arms and legs windmilling, as he fell.

As he dropped into a dark, fathomless hole. And fell . . . and fell . . . and fell.

Air streamed past him as he fell although, as time passed, it seemed more as if he was floating rather than falling. He floated for what seemed a very long time, and now his shoulder was being shaken, a timid voice calling his name but it wasn't his name but it was his name after all.

"_Huh?_ Wha—? Whaizzit?"

Bolting upright he sat up in bed, as fleeting memories of dreams were shredded and tattered into misty wisps. Wildly looking around, feeling extremely disoriented, all he could see were blurred, indistinct shapes and forms and figures.

"Here," said the soft voice of a girl. He felt his glasses placed in his hand and he quickly slipped them on. Instantly the blurred shapes became focused and he gazed at Tickled Pink who had been shaking his shoulder. "I'm sorry to have to wake you," she contritely said. "But Stormy said to get you. Are you OK?" she suddenly asked, for Brownie was looking very pale and disoriented.

_'No, not really,'_ he wanted to say. _'No, I'm really _really_ not OK.' _But Tickled was looking very worried about something, but even as anxious as she appeared it was obvious she really hadn't wanted to wake him. So, stifling a groan he tossed the sheet off and slipped sideways, legs dangling off the edge of the bed. "Why me?" he asked, struggling to fully wake up and laboring just as hard to shake his thoughts back into some semblance of order and lucidity. Which wasn't particularly easy to do, as he had a flood of 'old' memories that were lingering longer than they ever had before. "Why get me" he repeated, "and not Rainbow?" _'It's not as if _I'm_ anybody important or special,'_ he thought.

"Rainbow won't stay awake," Tickled simply said, then quickly added when Brownie grew alarmed, "She's just very exhausted, is all. All she needs is a good night's sleep."

Sliding off the bed he wobbled for a moment. "Where's Stormy? And do you have any idea what she wants?"

"She's outside on the bridge," Tickled said. "All I know is she just called in here a minute ago and said to get you."

Brownie groaned again and nodded. Hopefully she wasn't looking for some target practice while she watched! He slowly padded his way to the entrance, sensing Sam following just behind him. Stopping to one side of Skydancer he looked up at Stormy. "I'm here," _'mostly'_, he mentally added. "What is it?"

"That," she said in a very calm, actually _too_ calm, voice, pointing off towards the distance. Brownie couldn't be positive, but he was pretty sure the Pits were in that direction. He strained to see that far. "Is it the Color Kids? Are they headed back?" he hopefully asked.

"No," she said in an odd flat voice. "I wish!"

Brownie kept looking, then remembered a trick for seeing in the dark. He looked just to either side of where Stormy was pointing, using the corner of his eyes to see. And when he did . . .

His tummy abruptly roiled and churned. "Ummm . . . I'm gonna guess that's not s'pposed to be there?"

Stormy snorted as Skydancer derisively whickered. "No, it's not. And I have a bad feeling about it, too."

'Bad Feeling' certainly summed up his thoughts, too. He couldn't be sure but what he _could_ manage to see wasn't what he'd call comforting. It looked like a ground-hugging storm cloud, a seething mass of fog blanketing the ground and stretching as far as the eye could see to either side. Turning around he motioned to Sam, who obligingly knelt. Clambering up onto his back Brownie held on tightly as Sam raised himself back up. "I'll be back," he told Stormy.

"And just where do _you_ think _you're_ going?"

There was a foreboding rumble from far overhead, and an equally ominous glower to Stormy's face. "I'm going to go check out what it is," he said, then winced as Stormy exploded.

"And just who put _you_ in charge? And what makes _you_ think you're the best one to go out there and check anything out? _Huh?_ You think because I'm a girl that makes you better'n me?"

"Huh?" Brownie reeled back, shocked at her angry outburst. "What does your being a girl have to do with anything? And _I'm_ certainly not in charge! _You_ are. But who else should go? It's either you or Tickled or me. Tickled doesn't have a horse, although she could ride mine. But neither she nor I have _your_ powers. If you go out there and something bad happens, Tickled won't be able to defend the Color Castle or Rainbow Land. And as for me," he barked a sardonic, bitter laugh, "the best I could do is throw rocks. It's not like I can do anything useful to defend here."

He gazed back out in the direction of that unnatural, creepy fog bank and deeply shuddered, feeling his skin crawl. "I'm expendable; neither you nor Tickled are. That's why I'd said I was going. It has nothing at all to do with you being a girl. That's just plain silly. It has everything to do with you being the best defense Rainbow Land has."

When Stormy remained silent he risked peeking back at her and was astonished to see her sitting there looking stunned, her mouth open and eyes wide, looking for all the world like she'd hit herself with one of her own lightning bolts. Huh. Maybe she had.

"Wish us luck," he said, nudging Sam with his knees. _'Cuz I'm pretty sure we're gonna need it,'_ he glumly thought as they slowly started off across the bridge and towards that menacing cloud.


	5. The Tolling of the Bells

The Tolling of the Bells

_At night all cats are gray._

That was a very old saying, but that didn't mean it was wrong or inaccurate. Fact is, Brownie seemed to remember things truly looking gray at night. But as he slowly headed towards the edge of Rainbow Land where it met the Pits, and towards that suspicious, sinister-looking fog, he realized that didn't truly apply here in Rainbow Land. True, things weren't as vibrantly hued as they had been earlier. But even with it being this dark at night he thought he could still sense the colors of things all around him. Almost as if the colors were drowsy and slumbering but still there.

He wished it were daylight. He hadn't had much of a chance to really sightsee before, not when he'd been galloping like the wind. Actually he'd had his eyes closed for most of that wild trip. One thing he knew for sure was that Stormy wouldn't have had her eyes closed. Not _her!_ No, she'd've been laughing, caroling with delight and a fierce untamed joy.

He also highly doubted her hands would be shaking as badly as his were at the moment. Or her tummy churning and feeling queasy. He glanced back over his shoulder but already she was swallowed up by the shadows of night, and even the Color Castle was an indistinct blur at the limit of his perception.

Everything was very quiet. Granted it was night, and places grew quiet at night as people and creatures settled down to sleep. But it wasn't all _that_ late, and there was an uncanny, preternatural sense of wrongness about things. The gentle, rhythmic clop of Sam's hooves seemed unnaturally loud in the eerie silence.

He wondered where Moonglo was and if she was all right. She'd left before that fog/cloud thingie had appeared. Glancing up at the sky he felt his breath catch. Oh, she was OK all right! He'd never seen a prettier, more beautiful sky. It simply was beyond words. _"Wow!"_ he softly breathed. "She does really good work doesn't she Sam?" he whispered in awe. He wasn't really expecting an answer —after all, Sam was just a plain ol' horse; he wasn't anything special, not like Starlite or Skydancer— but, to his surprise, Sam softly whickered, tossing his head up and down as if nodding.

He'd already passed by several rows of houses before he leaned back, Sam coming to a stop as he felt Brownie's weight shift. When he started shifting to dismount Sam softly whickered then eased down on his knees, forelegs first then rear legs. "Thanks Sam!" Brownie said, patting Sam's wide, muscled neck.

Sliding off the side he eased himself down, sliding the last foot or so and dismounting much more gracefully than he had up to now. Padding over to one of the homes he gently knocked on the front door, just to one side of the star-shaped cutout there. All the homes, he realized (well, at least all of the ones he'd seen so far, anyway) seemed to be patterned on a single basic design: like an egg cut in half, the rounded tip upright, with a front door that was semi circularly rounded at the top and set inside a frame of the same shape.

A shape very much like that of a rainbow, he realized.

Other than that, though, no two were exactly alike. There was a lot of variety in decorations and (no surprise here) colors. Some had window boxes full of flowers. Some had porches, some had porch awnings. None of them looked quite the same, and all of them looked very cheerful and homey, and Brownie wistfully hoped he'd, one day, have a chance to see them in the daylight.

"Hello, yes? Who is it?" The door cracked open and a somewhat anxious sprite peeked out, starry-tipped antennae bobbing in anxiety.

"Could you do me a favor, please?" Brownie asked.

"A favor? What sort of favor? It's not a big favor is it? I mean it's not that I mind big favors when I can but it's kind of a bad night for favors and I don't know if I have the time and oh oh oh I don't know if I should go out or anything—"

"Whoa there!" Brownie said, wincing at the rapid, high-pitched, squeaky chatter. "Easy now! I'm not asking for anything big. Just could you go to the Color Castle, please, and ask Stormy if she wants me to pass the word along and have all you sprites head to the Castle for safety?"

"We-ell . . . I guess I could do that yes. It _would_ have to be Stormy. Do you want me to do that right now? You _sure_ I can't ask someone else? I can do that right now if you want."

"Yes, please? And yes, it has to be Stormy, sorry. Oh, wait!" he blurted, for the sprite was already starting to dash off. "Tell her, please, that if she wants me to pass the word to, ummm . . .," he thoughtfully frowned. "Tell her to please make a peal of thunder if she wants me to do that. OK?"

"OK!"

Just like that the sprite was gone.

Clambering up onto Sam Brownie winced, imagining a big spangle of sprites all trying to jabber away all at the same time. His head throbbed picturing that!

He'd considered just asking the sprite to go ahead and start spreading the message to, well, evacuate up to the Color Castle. But he was afraid if he did that and this cloud thing turned out to be a false alarm and nothing to worry about Stormy would be (and rightly so), at the very least, annoyed with him. And her very worst simply wasn't something he wanted to picture.

As they slowly grew closer and closer to the wall front of the cloud it seemed to loom higher and higher. Brownie rubbed his hands up and down his arms, feeling a chill, then shivered anew at feeling the texture of his palms against his skin. That still felt so foreign and weird and he doubted he'd ever get used to the changes he seemed having undergone.

They stopped about ten feet away . . . which was several miles closer to it than he really wanted to be now that he was this close. There was something terribly, dreadfully malevolent about this cloud. The front of it roiled and seethed, churning in a mesmerizing slow motion movement as it glacially flowed towards, and into, Rainbow Land. It didn't _seem_ terribly thick, but as Brownie very carefully watched he realized for all its apparent wispiness he could only see about five or so feet into it. After that it was like gazing into nothingness.

Sam took several backwards steps as the bubbling front of the cloud advanced, and Brownie got sick to his tummy as he saw what it did to a carefully tended flowerbed in Indigo Acres. The flowers just . . . wilted. Then shriveled up. Then turned to dust, which seemed to be sucked up into the seething mass of the cloud.

Sam snorted and shook his huge head as Brownie shifted to dismount. "It's OK Sam," he reassured, although he wasn't at all sure it was OK. "I just need to check something."

Very reluctantly Sam folded his legs up until kneeling again, then Brownie slid off his side. _'Gonna hafta practice this a lot more,'_ he thought, realizing he was mentally chattering to himself partly (well, mostly) out of nerves. Once he was on the ground he looked around until he found several smallish stones, picking three of them up and holding them against his chest in the crook of one arm.

Stepping up to the cloud, Sam nervously whickering behind him, Brownie took one of the stones and carefully underhand lofted it at the cloud. He wanted to see how solid or wispy the cloud actually was. Just because it _looked_ translucent and fog-like didn't mean it _was_.

The rock soared through the air, landing with a couple of bounces on the other side. Well, at least that proved the cloud _was_ a cloud! he thought. He debated throwing a second one but decided that wasn't necessary. He'd discovered what he'd sought, so he dropped the other two and turned to walk back to Sam when two things happened right about the same time.

A loud boom of thunder pealed from the direction of the Color Castle. Brownie came to an abrupt stop at that, his tummy dropping down to his toes. Then his heart leapt up to his throat as a pseudopod of fog as thick as his body suddenly thrust out of the cloud wall, striking right where he'd been about to step. He jumped back, his throat too tight with terror to scream, as the ground bubbled and smoked where the pseudopod had landed.

And once it _had_ landed . . . it started blindly questing about . . . seeking . . . searching . . . and writhing right towards him!

_"Run!"_ he screamed at Sam, then took off running himself, back towards the Color Castle. He stopped about thirty feet away, heart hammering so fast it felt like one constant non-stop thud, then clambered up onto Sam's back the moment he stopped and knelt to be mounted.

All he wanted to do was race back to the Castle. Back to safety. Far _far_ away from that malignant, malevolent cloud. But if he did . . . most, if not all, of the sprites here wouldn't know what terrible danger they were in. Shaking like a leaf he brought Sam to a stop once they reached the first of the houses. He didn't wait for Sam to kneel this time. Instead he dropped like a stone off his side, landing in a heap, then lurched to his feet and staggered over to the door.

Hammering on it he cried out, "_Run!_ You gotta _run!_ Flee to the castle, there's danger! Pass the word!"

He went to the next house, then to another, then another, until he'd roused enough sprites to spread the word and get everyone to safety.

Assuming, of course, that the Castle was going to, after all and in the end, provide any safety!


	6. Smoke and Mirrors

Smoke and Mirrors

Several beads of grayish water trickled down the rough stone face, disappearing in the ground as soon as it reached there. Just ahead of him the fog momentarily parted, revealing the winding surface of the road before closing again and obscuring it. Red always found the fog here disturbing and unnatural. It seemed most times as if almost alive in how it twisted and writhed.

Actually he found _all_ of the Pits unnatural and disturbing, although he'd never admit to anyone just how chilling and gloomy, unsettling and dismal, he found here to be. He never liked going into the Pits, not for _any_ reason.

Although, admittedly, _this_ time he had better reasons than most.

If he was right (and of course he was; he _was_ Red Butler after all!) then Murky's castle should be about three sprite-ball fields ahead. That sounded quite a long way off . . . until you considered that those last three hundred yards were probably the most dangerous distance yet to traverse. And now he had a difficult choice to make.

Did he choose the easy yet obvious way, or elect traveling the difficult but more subtle and concealed paths? Each was equally dangerous, and each had their own set of unique challenges and perils.

The easy way was simply continuing up the road. Of course _that_ route lead straight to Murky's front door. Needless to say Red highly doubted that approach wasn't being carefully watched. But it equally led to the castle itself and, once close, there were numerous additional means of entrance. Like windows and balconies.

The subtle but much more challenging (and dangerous) method was leaving the road; if not right here than within another hundred yards or less. There were numerous cracks and crevasses, gullies and chasms, one could choose for advancing to Murky's lair. The two advantages to that option were concealment and secrecy: it was virtually impossible for Murky to keep watch over all the potential pathways there. The prospective problems, however, were numerous. For one thing, the gloom and mist and fog made it very easy to become disoriented and lost. For another, while Murky might not have the ability to keep constant watch everywhere, he didn't necessarily _have_ to do so. He was quite cunningly inventive when it came to traps, after all. Nor was he the _only_ creature living here. And anything and everything that called the Pits their home would be inimical and hostile to them.

Plus, taking those routes would make it extremely difficult for Starlite to navigate and traverse them. Magnificent he might be, but he still had all the limitations of his equine heritage. And some of the close, tight-fitting passages and paths the kids could wriggle through and past would be impossible for him to do so.

Red hated how he was feeling at this moment. The 'before' and 'after' of an adventure, challenge, or ordeal was one thing, the 'during' quite another. He enjoyed the thrill he felt when facing a challenge. He certainly enjoyed the flush and satisfaction of victory afterwards! But, _during_?

He preferred not dwelling on _those_ moments.

Red had lost count of how many times he'd been in the Pits, either voluntarily or otherwise. Normally he didn't dwell on those times, which was actually pretty easy to do. He, like all the Color Kids, pretty much lived in the 'here-and-now', much as any kid did. Theirs was a worriless, joyful, day-to-day existence. They didn't mope about the past nor did they brood or fret about the future, and each day was a new day, full of delight and joy, wonder and splendor.

It wasn't as if they forgot the past or were unable to fathom the future, no. In that aspect they differed from true kids. They were always aware of their responsibilities and work; they planned for the future when and where they could, and learned from past mistakes and experiences. They just didn't choose to dwell and live in the past.

Well, not when it came to reminiscing over bad or unpleasant things, anyway. Red, much like all the others, certainly enjoyed looking back on the past and remembering fun, exciting and happy times. And, of course, making plans for future occasions like picnics and parties and fairs. However, creeping through the Pits _wasn't_ one of those!

Although all of them did get a lot of practice at creeping and hiding like this, for they often played games like Hide-and-Seek, Tag, and Murky-and-Color Kids. Not only were they great fun to play, but they also had the added benefit of honing such skills as running, hunting, tracking, hiding, and observation. Unhappily necessary skills when your closest neighbor was Murky Dismal!

Red grinned, recalling the last game of Murky-and-Color Kids they'd played. Violet almost always played Murky since she was the only one clever enough to create truly ingenious plots and plans, and she'd done the same that time. Normally one of the head sprites played Lurky, although IQ never had but once. He'd really disliked having to act so physically and mentally clumsy so they never pressed him to do so again. Now and then, though, one of the other kids would play Lurky. It was always exhilarating when Patty did, for instance, because she'd help Violet come up with wicked practical jokes as traps and tricks! But this last time Indigo had played the role of Lurky, and she'd done such a convincing job that everyone had burst into laughter . . . and, as a result, they'd all been 'captured' by 'Murky'.

Suddenly he grew quite grim. It certainly wouldn't be anywhere near as amusing, he thought, if Murky captured them all _this_ time! As much as he enjoyed occasions when he was in charge, at this moment the heavy mantle and burden of responsibility was feeling extraordinarily weighty and daunting. He glanced back down the path, where the rest of the Color Kids —_all_ of them, in fact— were waiting, obscured by the writhing gloomy mists.

Well, all of them but Tickled, he amended. But Tickled was a rather atypical case, more of a well, secondary Color Kid rather than a primary one like Lala, Canary and the others. That didn't make her inferior to the others, no. But that didn't make it any less accurate, either. Red through Violet were definitely primary: singular and unique. Tickled, on the other hand, was more multi-faceted, dealing with secondary, blended colors that, in and of themselves were unique, but were also entirely dependent on the primary ones for their existence.

Red felt queasiness deep in his tummy, knowing every single Color Kid was in the Pits with him. Given his druthers he'd have felt much more comfortable had a few stayed behind in Rainbow Land. But considering the circumstances even he hadn't seen any other choice, and at least they'd all agreed to leave their head sprites behind. Although none of them, from Romeo to IQ, had been pleased with that decision.

None of them, not even Violet, understood what had happened to Rainbow. And Violet had certainly tried her hardest! But all she could determine had been two things: whatever had been done would become irrevocable once night had fallen . . . and that any chance they had of reversing things would require the Color Belt.

So here they all were, and Red was still facing a difficult choice. One that, very likely, would make the difference between salvation and victory . . . or failure and destruction.

Well, they'd already passed _one_ hurdle: that laughable excuse for a trick! Obviously Murky was rushing things if _that_ had been the best he could come up with! If so, then perhaps he hadn't had time to come up with additional devious traps or distractions!

His ears perked up, hearing the low but distinctive clippity-clop, clippety-clop from behind. That could only be Starlite. And about time, too!

A few minutes later and Buddy Blue slipped beside him. "Well?" Red whispered.

Buddy pushed his headband up a bit. "All clear," he whispered back.

"What do you mean, 'all clear'?"

"Starlite said that Brownie character just gave up and walked off."

"Walked off? _Where?_" Red felt a thread of alarm. Was that simacrulum (the term Violet used) heading back to Murky's even now?

Buddy shrugged, obviously not thinking that far ahead. "Starlite said off the other way. Down towards Rainbow Land," he helpfully added.

Red suddenly burst into sniggering giggles. "What's so funny?" Buddy asked.

"Oh, I hope he goes all the way to the Color Castle!" When Buddy just looked puzzled he added, "Just picture the reception he'll get from Stormy!"

Buddy suddenly covered his mouth with both hands, smothering his laughter. "Oh my!" he finally wheezed. "He'll be lucky if all he gets is singed!"

Red grinned, his eyes merry and twinkling as he nodded, tousled mass of vibrant red hair bobbing. Then he looked back up the road again.

"So what's the plan?" Buddy softly murmured, both of them keeping careful watch ahead and to every side.

Red quietly related everything he'd already pondered, while Buddy just listened, nodding now and then.

"So we either blitz or do a reverse pattern," he finally said once Red was finished.

Red silently groaned. Trust Buddy to state things in sports terms! But he just had to grin; it wouldn't be Buddy, after all, if he _hadn't!_

"That's pretty much it, yeah," he agreed.

"So . . . what do you think we should do?"

Red felt his tummy get all knotted up again. "Ummm—," he started, as option after option —and worse, potential disaster after disaster— flashed through his head. "I think our best choice is start where Murky would least likely suspect us to go: the Colorless Caves."

Buddy winced. That might be the least likely place Murky would suspect them going, but it was also the very last place Buddy would ever choose to visit!

"Listen," Red continued, "We know at least three different back ways to get there, and Starlite can manage all of them. Kinda," he amended. Starlite certainly could manage them, true, but it would be an extremely tight and uncomfortable fit for him at times.

"Once we're inside, we're also out of sight. We can keep grouped together there and send out only a couple of us to find and get the belt. Then, once we have it, we can dash right out the front and head straight back to Rainbow Land."

The two of them softly murmured for several more minutes, refining the plan before stealthily moving back to the others. So far they seen neither hide nor hair of Murky or Lurky, and they wanted to keep it that way!

Unfortunately for them, although they'd kept a close watch up the road and all around them, they'd completely missed the metallic mechanical flower mere feet above them on the rock wall.

******** ******** ******** ******** ******** ********

"Ah ha ha ha ha ha! Hee hee har har har!"

"Whatcha laughing for Murky?" Lurky asked, looking puzzled and scratching his head.

Murky just doubled over with maniacal laughter, holding his belly and roaring. Finally he managed to control himself, although his beady eyes continued glittering with malevolent glee. "It's those color brats!" he chortled, rubbing gloved hands together. "They're going exactly where I wanted them to go! I don't even have to trick them into going there!"

"Goodie goodie goodie!" Lurky cheered, capering about. Then he stopped and gave Murky a blank look of confusion. "Uhhhh . . . where's dat Murky?"

"To the colorless caves lame-brain!" Murky snarled.

Lurky scratched his head again looking, if at all possible, even more confused. "You want dem to go there Murky?" he asked. "But isn't dat where ya hid da Color Belt though?"

Groaning Murky just shook his head. He started to explain —_again!_— then decided not to do so. Hopping down off the stool he'd been standing atop he scuttled over to a window. Peering out he could just see the road leading up to the yawning, gaping entrance to his castle. Somewhere down there, just around the bend of the road, were those meddlesome brats. And soon —soon!— they'd be captured! Imprisoned forever in the colorless caves, drained of all color and hope.

Scurrying over to one of the benches in his laboratory Murky consulted a bizarre hourglass. The sands were about three-quarters of the way emptied into the bottom bowl. He chortled again. When that sand was all the way emptied from the upper bowl, that Rainbow brat would be finished! Her only hope was her Color Belt! And if her hypothetical rescuers were _here_ . . .

She was _finished!_ At _last!_ At long last!

Rainbow Land would soon belong to him! And when it _did_ . . . he'd drain all the color out of it, suck all hope and happiness from there . . .

. . . and after that, he'd do the same to all the Earth!

Murky leaned his head back and roared with laughter, his glee echoing from the walls.

******** ******** ******** ******** ******** ********

"I don't like —_oof_!— this one little —_uuhh!_— bit!"

_"Shhhh!"_ Red tried very hard to keep from glaring back at Starlite. Nor was he the only one making hushing sounds either. He couldn't blame him at all though: the path they were taking was close and cramped, and definitely wasn't easy for him. But if Starlite didn't stop complaining each and every time he almost got stuck . . .

Somehow they'd managed getting this far unscathed and unspotted. Looming before them was Murky's castle, an ominous, brooding, gloomy mass of dark gray basalt and granite. In addition to the omnipresent dreary, dismal fog and mist there were now noisome, noxious vapors, too. One whiff of _those_, no matter how slight, and your eyes watered and you coughed so hard you almost retched.

But _also_ just ahead was a crevasse that slanted downwards, descending into the bowels of the Pits and, ultimately, beneath Murky's castle. If they could just make it to that point the chances of being spotted dramatically decreased!

Which meant, of course, that their chance of success markedly improved, too!

They had to hurry, no matter what. Although they couldn't see the sky above —nor the sun itself, for that matter— Red knew (and Violet confirmed) they hadn't much time left at all. In fact, when they found the belt Starlite was going to have to gallop off on his own with it, leaving the kids behind. Otherwise this mission would be for naught.

One by one they crept down the crevasse, each of them feeling the willies as they did. Red took the lead with Starlite bringing up the rear. Finally, after many long minutes, he breathed a sigh of relief. They'd managed entering the bottommost area of the Colorless Caves without being spotted. And now it was time to begin searching!

"OK," he whispered as they all huddled together. "I'm gonna go and take a look around. Canary, you and Violet come with me. The rest of you stay here and try to hide."

There was some muttering and grumbles of complaint at that. "Listen," Red patiently explained. "If we all split up we increase the chance of getting spotted or getting trapped. Violet—," he sighed, sounding annoyed, "Are you listening? This is _important!_"

"So is this. Look," she said, crouched down and leaned forwards, closely examining the floor.

"Oh! Tracks!" Canary happily exclaimed. "Recent ones too!"

Red padded over and looked. Both Violet and Canary were right. The floor here was a bit dusty and gritty, and tracks could clearly be seen.

"OK. Good job Violet!"

Violet peered up through her glasses, ducking her head a bit at the praise before standing up.

Very carefully Red had the others fan out a bit and, whenever one of them discovered signs of the trail they all gathered back together again before heading off in the new direction.

Within ten minutes they'd followed the trail to a grotto off to one side. The entrance was rather small and almost hidden by a small group of stalagmites. Squeezing past those they entered the grotto, an almost perfectly circular cave that, due to the outer stalagmites, they'd have passed right by save for the scuffed dust trail that lead there.

"C'mon Violet!" Red softly hissed, for Violet had stopped at those conical stone formations, leaning forward and peering at them quite closely. The last thing he needed was Violet getting distracted by something scientific-ey!

Right smack-dab in the middle of the grotto was another stalagmite, this one not much taller than he was. They searched all around but didn't see a single sign of the belt, nor any sign of digging, nor any other indication of a hiding place. Red looked up from a tiny crack in the floor he'd been examining and his eyes rolled. "Violet!" he hissed. "We're here to search, not sight-see!" for Violet was, once again, peering closely at a stalagmite, this time the central one.

"I'm not sight-seeing Red," she countered as she straightened up. "But this doesn't look right."

"What do you mean?" asked Patty.

"Well, a stalagmite —that's what this is, after all; or, well, supposed to be I guess— is a conical mineral deposit, usually calcite or aragonite, built up on the floor of a cavern, formed from the dripping of mineral-rich water."

Red tried not to groan as Violet started taking off. Lala, however, padded over and looked closer at it. "It looks pretty, err, conical minerally whatever-you-just-said to me!"

"Well, there's three basic problems with it," Violet said. Pointing up at the roof of the small cavern she asked, "So where's the dripping water that made this coming from?"

Everyone peered up, and almost all of them softly gasped. For, indeed, the top of the ceiling looked bone dry, without any sign at all of dripping water.

"What are the other two?" Indigo softly asked.

"Well, one is that this is neither calcite _nor_ aragonite," Violet explained. "And the other is—," she paused, then reached out and smartly rapped the stalagmite, which gave off a soured, discordant gong, "it's hollow."

The small grotto echoed with sharply inhaled gasps. _"That's it!"_ Red excitedly whispered. "Murky must have hidden Rainbow Color Belt inside it!"

Red, Buddy, Patty and Canary eagerly surrounded the stalagmite, examining, poking and prodding, almost pushing Violet out of the way in their enthusiasm. They rapped and knocked, searched for cracks or keyholes. Nothing they did worked, and it wasn't until Patty accidentally —or luckily— tried rotating the stalagmite that anything happened.

With a low grinding noise the stalagmite turned a bit. With a spine-chilling screech the top of the stalagmite opened, popping open like a weird Jack-in-the-box. The bottom base of the 'lid' was flat, as was the top of the remaining stalagmite. And, perched atop the flat surface of the stalagmite was the Color Belt!

Red gave a soft cry of joy and immediately reached for it. "Wait!" Violet cried out. But that was far too slow . . . and far too late.

No sooner had Red triumphantly clutched the belt than two things happened. With an earsplitting, tooth aching shrill squeal the stalagmites at the entrance of the grotto abruptly lurched _up_ . . . while a matching but interlacing set of stalactites thrust _down_, meeting in the middle like gnashing fangs. They ground to a halt, leaving but a finger's width gap between them.

No sooner had all heads jerked in _that_ direction then they'd all swiveled back as Red gave out a startled cry. Staggering backwards the belt in his hand abruptly changed to shades of dull, lifeless gray. Then it shimmered, a decidedly dreadful, appalling gloom around it . . . and stretched. Elongated.

Before Red could hurl it away from him in revulsion and shock the belt sinuously wrapped itself 'round and 'round him. In moments Red was completely encased, head to toe, in the fabric.

Lala cried out in fright and horror, hands up to her mouth, too shocked and stunned to move. Red tottered a moment and would have painfully fallen except Buddy and Canary both lunged for him, grabbing him before he fell.

While those two tugged and yanked, pulled and heaved to free him the others raced over to the stalactite/stalagmite bars of what was now their prison. But they had the same success as did Buddy and Canary: none at all.

It didn't take very long at all before the gloom of the Colorless Caves started leeching them of hope. Red was still helplessly shrouded and encased like a mummy, all of the rescue mission were trapped, and they'd lost the only chance at retrieving the Color Belt which meant that Rainbow Brite was now doomed along with the rest of them.

It didn't take being trapped and imprisoned in the Colorless Caves for them to feel despair and hopelessness. The very knowledge of their situation was enough for that!


	7. Who Guards the Guardians?

Who Guards the Guardians?

Soon there was a veritable tide of sprites dashing to the castle. Brownie saw that, instead of just blindly fleeing, all were stopping en route to the Castle—and safety— and rousing their neighbors. No one was going to be left behind, he saw, so he finally stopped running long enough to climb back up onto Sam once his horse helpfully knelt to be mounted.

Glancing back he felt a frisson of fear. The cloud wall seemed to froth and seethe, and now was visibly moving forwards. Swallowing hard he shuddered. There was something malevolently inexorable and . . . _hungry_ . . . about that cloud. And as he had a pretty good notion as to the source of it, well . . .

Nudging Sam into a canter he clung on for dear life as they, too, headed back to the castle. It never occurred to him to go anywhere else. It hadn't been a matter of the Castle being the only sanctuary. He would have still headed there even had there been other, even better, places of safety. For the Color Castle was the center of Rainbow Land, as Rainbow Brite was its heart and soul.

And _both_ were being attacked.

Sam slowed to a walk just before reaching the bridge then sedately plodded onto it, stopping near Skydancer. Stormy had an odd, almost strained look to her face as she kept staring off into the distance at the cloud. "Well?" she curtly asked.

Brownie explained all he'd seen . . . and felt. "It _looks_ just like thick fog," he finally said, "but it also acted, umm, somewhat alive, too." He shivered anew, remembering the pseudopod that had _hungrily_ quested after him.

Stormy had a grim look as she continued gravely watching. "Any sign of the Color Kids? Or Starlite? Or Twink or the other sprites?"

Brownie shook his head and softly replied, "Not that I saw, no."

"Tickled said that Rainbow is still out like a light," Stormy finally said, a little waver to her voice. "If we can't get her to wake up, I don't know _what's_ going to happen. That _has_ to be something of Murky's, and if it is, he's not going to stop until he's destroyed _all_ of Rainbow Land."

Brownie guided Sam until he was facing away from the Castle and standing alongside Stormy and Skydancer. They silently looked off into the distance, each lost in their own thoughts and fears.

"What do you think—," "Do you have any—"

Brownie felt his face grow hot as he ducked his head, while Stormy just blinked then struggled not to giggle. After being quiet for so long it was pretty funny that the both of them had suddenly started speaking at the same time!

After a few moments Brownie sheepishly grinned, peeking over at Stormy. Once he'd gotten over his initial embarrassment that _had_ been pretty funny! Then his face grew bleak as he gazed back out at the distant cloud wall. Seeing that instantly extinguished any amusement he'd felt. "What do you think we should do?" he asked again, this time finishing the question.

"I don't know," Stormy admitted, then finished her own question. "Do you have any ideas?"

Brownie wished he did. This was all still so very new, even if it did seem oddly familiar in some ways. Giving a little shrug he shook his head. "Not really. Everything I've thought of would require Rainbow. Like making a color wall, or dispersing that wall with a rainbow."

Stormy nodded. She'd pretty much been thinking the same things herself. She'd considered going inside and waking Rainbow, but if Tickled said Rainbow wasn't waking up well . . . she wasn't waking up and that was that. There was no use wishing for snow in August after all.

"I'm guessing some sort of diabolic machine of Murky's creation is making that," Brownie slowly said, as if speaking his thoughts out loud. "I guess if the machine was broke or destroyed that fog would disperse and go away."

Well, that made sense to Stormy. "And?" she prompted when Brownie stayed silent for a bit.

"Hmmm? _Oh!"_ he blushed. "Ah, well . . . I guess the big questions are where that machine, or machines, are; whether they're guarded or not; and, if guarded, how are they guarded. Oh, and whether Murky or Lurky or both are with the machine. And how difficult will it be to break, or stop, whatever's making that."

Gazing out in the distance he softly added, "The _biggest_ question, I think, is how anyone would survive unscathed getting through that cloud to begin with. It's not going to help at all if whoever goes out there to destroy the machine —assuming, of course, that's what's actually making that awful stuff— gets effected by the cloud."

Stormy just nodded as they both went back to silently watching, each of them feeling helpless, a sensation that Stormy was quite unused to feeling and didn't at all like.

'Stormy?" Brownie finally, hesitantly began.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm not very familiar with the scope of your powers. Well, except that they're pretty awesome. I know you can make snow and sleet and rain and hail. Well, obviously lightning, too," he added with a little grin. Oh, that she could make lightning was something he was_ definitely_ aware! "But can you make wind, too?"

Stormy disdainfully snorted, tossing her braid. "Well, of _course!_ Can't make a blizzard without wind you know!"

Brownie held up a hand in apology. "That's not what I meant though. I know winds are parts of storms. But can you just make wind? _Just_ wind? And can you intentionally control and direct that?"

She opened her mouth, about to haul him over the coals when she paused then grew very thoughtful. "Hmmmm." She grew very thoughtful, a little frowny look of concentration furrowing her brows, having instantly grasped the point of his questions. And they were _very_ interesting questions, too!

Stormy had no doubt at all she could generate fierce winds. But normally she just whipped up a storm and rode that wildness. Oh yes, she quite often added her own style to them, like extra lightning or additional inches of snow. But the wind . . . well, that was just part of the storm. She might guide the storms where she wanted them to go, but the winds borne of those storms had lives of their own, blustering and blowing where they chose.

But could she create, and then _control_, just wind?

And it couldn't be just _any_ wind either, she considered. Too fast or too blustery and it might just shred the cloud into pieces and portions without actually pushing it back, while too mild a zephyr and it wouldn't have any useful effect. It would have to be mild _and_ steady, plus constant in direction. She wouldn't be able to just craft and create it then let it go. No, she'd have to keep it in constant, non-stop check and control.

And to put the anvil on the thunderhead, she'd have to do all that from down _here_. From on the _ground_.

"You're thinking of using the wind as a temporary way of keeping the cloud at bay?"

Brownie nodded. "I wish it could be a permanent way," he admitted. "But I'm very much afraid that'll likely require Rainbow to do that. But if you could just keep it from coming any closer, that'll buy Rainbow Land a lot of time. It'll buy _us_ time."

Actually, Brownie realized that 'us' wasn't exactly accurate. Stormy was neither trapped here, confined to the ground as everyone else was, nor was she, strictly speaking, an inhabitant of Rainbow Land. She was the Queen of winter; Mistress of rain, lightning and wild storms.

But while those would always come first for her, Stormy also had friends and acquaintances here. And, truth be told, she found a great deal of marvel and delight helping make things bright and colorful when she could (and, well, when she _chose_). She would no more turn her back on Rainbow Land and her friends there, _or_ for what Rainbow Land stood for, than she would refute her own wild power and abandon winter, rain and lightning.

Closing her eyes Stormy sat very still atop Skydancer who, in turn, grew very still as well, instinctively sensing his Mistress gathering and marshalling her powers. Brownie remained utterly quiet as well, although his eyes rounded in awe and wonder —and, admittedly, no little fear— at the serene yet passionate expression on Stormy's face.

Moments later he felt a brush against his cheek. Then felt a passing zephyr. A few fallen leaves at the foot of the bridge stirred.

Tickled walked out at that moment. Curiously gazing up at Stormy a moment she then looked at Brownie. _"Shhhh!"_ he very softly hushed, holding forefinger to his lips. "I'll explain in a bit."

Tickled just nodded, although remaining quite curious. Both of them quietly watched Stormy as the fitful zephyrs slowly steadied, as they gradually altered into a gentle breeze.

Stormy gave a little grunt then although she kept her eyes closed tight, little hands fisted atop her lap. Leaning down Brownie softly whispered to Tickled, explaining what was going on, telling her all their thoughts and worries and what they'd come up with.

"If she asks," Brownie finally whispered, "Tell her I've gone off to check how this is working."

Then he squeaked as an irritated voice muttered, "I'm working. I'm not _deaf_."

Tickled giggled as Brownie's face and ears turned the color of her hair.

"Umm, ah, well . . . erm . . .,"

Tickled giggled again, gaily waving as Sam slowly plodded across the bridge. "Do be careful!" she called out.

Brownie gave a little wave back. Oh, he was going to be careful all right!

******** ******** ******** ******** ******** ********

Murky leaned his head back, his rounded belly jiggling as he erupted in cackles. "It works! _It works!_" he gleefully exulted. "I've finally gotten rid of that Rainbow brat, those dratted Color Kids and that miserable horse of hers are my prisoners, and soon Rainbow Land will be covered in gloom, all color, hope and happiness destroyed _forever!_"

His latest invention, the Gloom Consumer, was fitfully sputtering away, the multiple discharge tubes belching out alarming quantities of his latest gloom cloud concoction. The noisome fog hugged the ground in grim, dreadful clouds, forming a thick wall that was slowly surrounding Rainbow Land and steadily creeping inwards. The large glass bubble on top was mostly empty, which meant he'd have to refill the Gloom Consumer with more of his brew, but that was fine by him. There wasn't any rush, after all. There was no one left to foil him this time!

He'd been working on this plan for ages, and it had flawlessly performed, exceeding his wildest dreams!

Especially as he'd been quite a bit, well, both suspicious and hesitant about what he'd discovered during his latest nefarious researches!

Murky's expertise lay in what could be loosely described as chemistry. Almost everything he'd invented and created, from the least of his gloom clouds all the way to the (disappointing and frightening) creation of the Monstromurk, had been products of his laboratory. Now and then he'd tried dabbling in other Arts, but always to his regret. Each and every time when he had, he'd learned to his dismay that most of those 'experts' had been nothing more than charlatans or quacks.

But, _this_ time, he'd found a portion of a tattered old tome that spoke of an Art he'd never encountered before. Something that translated as _Thaumakhemetic_. It had taken him ages to translate the little remnant he'd possessed but, when he had, he'd erupted in gleeful howls.

After years of experimentation he'd gradually started mastering the skills required to utilize what little he'd learned. And his reward, so far, had been two tiny slivers of the oddest material he'd ever before encountered.

In fact, it had been fiendishly difficult realizing he _had_ succeeded, for the substance was extremely peculiar. It was impossible to see, but neither was it _invisible_. It was as if it were there, but _not_ there, too.

The first sliver he'd carefully ground into very fine powder, mixing that with a decoction of super gloom cloud. That had been what he'd used on that Rainbow brat earlier today and it had exceeded his wildest expectations. It hadn't just robbed her of all hope and happiness but had frozen her stiff as statue as well. And once night had fallen it would collapse on itself, taking it and whatever (or, in this case, _who_ever) was encased inside along with it.

Where _that_ was Murky wasn't quite sure. The ragged, charred pages he had in his possession didn't fully explain. But Murky didn't need a full explanation. There was enough there to identify that whatever dimension 'there' was, it was a dimension utterly devoid of even a shred of color. Which made it a fitting place to banish forever that Rainbow brat!

Then after he'd engloomed and immobilized the brat he'd raced back to the Pits, stopping first along the way and hiding the Color Belt he'd taken from her. He'd known it wouldn't take long at all before those busybody Color Kids came to recover that belt, and Murky already had things prepared for them.

And that, too, had impeccably worked. Oh, they'd taken longer to arrive than he'd expected. But arrive they had and, to his glee and delight, they'd even chosen to go the one place he'd _wanted_ them to go! Murky had no doubt at all he'd trap some of them. But he'd roared with diabolical laughter when he'd gone down once the signal had gone off indicating the trap had been sprung to check how many mice had gone after the cheese. He'd captured them _all!_ Every last color kid, and that pesky horse and annoying sprite of the brat's as well!

The eternal, perpetual gloom of the colorless caves was already sapping them. But when Murky had chortled, telling them that night had fallen, that they'd failed, that Rainbow Brite had been destroyed forever . . .

Their despair, despondence and depression had thickened to a delightful, palpable pall of misery and hopelessness!

He'd left then. And he wasn't going back. He had no need to do so. They had no hope, and nothing to hold out hope for. And the colorless caves would soon finish them off for him.

All that was left to do now was take care of Rainbow Land. There were no defenders left, and very soon it would be his! At last!

The other sliver he'd created was inside the Gloom Consumer. As the liquid gloom brew bubbled its way through the piping it swirled around that sliver just before being ejected as dense, thick, dreary, colorless clouds. The sliver somehow altered his gloom potion, enhancing it. And Murky was gleefully delighted in how that enhancement was performing!

He was about to summon Lurky and head back to the Pits for more gloom potion when he felt a fitful gust. Within minutes it was a gentle but steady draft blowing towards him. He immediately realized he'd been wrong about one thing: Rainbow Land still had at least _one_ defender. It had to be that Stormy.

But instead of being enraged Murky was delighted. For if that _was_ Stormy creating that breeze . . . then that _definitely_ meant Rainbow Brite was gone! Otherwise there'd be a disgusting rainbow attacking his gloom wall!

And if that was Stormy, well . . . she couldn't keep that breeze up forever. Eventually she'd grow tired. Exhausted and fatigued. And when _that_ happened —and it _would!_ . . .

Murky cackled with diabolical glee all the way back to the Pits and his castle. Victory was _his!_ He'd finally _won!_

******** ******** ******** ******** ******** ********

"Well?"

Brownie came to a halt, Sam's nose almost touching Skydancer's. "Looks like it's working," he murmured in response to Tickled's softly asked question. "I watched it for about ten minutes and it didn't move closer. In fact, Stormy's pushed it back a little."

There was a low pleased grunt from Stormy, who was still sitting there with her eyes closed and resembling a statue.

"Now what?" Tickled quietly asked.

Brownie winced a little. _'Darn it,'_ he thought, _'Couldn't you have waited just a _little bit_ before asking that?'_

"Good question," was all he replied though, as he carefully turned Sam around then backed him until once more alongside Skydancer and looking back towards the cloud . . . and the Pits.

Tickled leaned down and whispered something to an indigo sprite who softly squeaked before racing off. A few minutes later two indigo sprites returned, each carefully holding a big mug that lightly steamed. Tickled took one and handed it up to a surprised Brownie. "Here."

Carefully —_very_ carefully— Brownie leaned over to take it. "What is it?" he asked, then immediately went, _"Oh!"_ once he'd sat back up and really looked at the mug. Actually the aroma is what caught his attention. That, and the thick, white, creamy topping.

Taking a judicious sip his eyes closed as he sighed with pleasure, and Tickled softly giggled at the whipped cream mustache on his lips. "I thought you and Stormy might like some hot cocoa," she said.

Several more sprites then scurried out onto the bridge. Four green ones carried two wicker baskets full of lush green grass between them, setting them in front of Skydancer and Sam. Another two, these yellow, carried wide buckets of crystalline clear water, and again sat those out for the horses. Sam gratefully whickered, lowering his head and diving into the thick verdant grass fortified with rich clover. Skydancer just stood there, as much a statue as Stormy, although a soft whicker showed appreciation.

Brownie cupped the mug between his hands, enjoying the warmth as much as he did the taste. Slowly sipping he kept a silent watch along with Stormy. And as he did something kept niggling at him.

Finally, after a very long time, he softly murmured, "We can't just wait like this." There was a low inquisitive grunt from Stormy, while Tickled softly asked, "What do you mean?"

Brownie gestured outwards. "If we just stay like this, on the defensive, we're asking for trouble. _Murky_ isn't likely to just sit there and take this. And besides, even if he _does_ . . .," he trailed off, glancing sideways at Stormy. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, her face was starting to look drawn and tight. "Stormy can't keep this up for forever," he quietly murmured.

"Stormy can keep this up for as long as she needs to," Stormy gritted out.

Brownie exchanged glances with Tickled who just shrugged. And so the two of them kept silent vigil with Stormy, as high overhead the most beautiful moon Brownie had ever seen gradually traversed the sky. Now and then Tickled quietly crept inside to check on Rainbow, and each time she returned she just silently shook her head at Brownie. Sam dozed, and Brownie had nodded off a time or two himself.

It was only an hour or two before dawn and by now Stormy's hair was dank, her face deeply lined with exhaustion, little tremors racing through her. But the breeze continued, the gloom wall held at bay.

"If they were coming back they should be back by now shouldn't they," Brownie murmured to Tickled. She solemnly nodded, her huge eyes shimmering. "How is Rainbow doing?" he softly asked.

"Better," Tickled replied. "But she's still very weak and groggy."

Brownie wondered if that was because it was still night. Whatever had been used on her had been keyed to nightfall and perhaps they'd cut things a bit too close. Maybe she'd be fine once dawn arrived. Assuming they lasted that long, he worried, a little shiver racing though him as he gazed at Stormy, seeing the immense strain she was under.

It wasn't just that making him shiver, he suddenly realized. There was . . . _something_ . . . impelling him. Something important. But _what?_

"If they aren't back by now," he softly murmured. Tickled looked up, her eyes widening a bit at Brownie's expression, for his eyes were unfocused and distant. "Then that most likely means that either Murky has captured them, or worse. If it's worse," he murmured, a little pain to his voice, "there's nothing we can do. If it isn't, then they need help."

Tickled nodded to herself, paying very close attention to this uncanny monologue.

"Rainbow can't go after them. For one, she isn't up to it. For another, very soon, like it or not, Stormy is going to need rest. Out of all of us, only Rainbow can spell Stormy. Only Rainbow can keep that cloud at bay, and hopefully even disperse it for good."

"But when she does either, Murky will know —not guess, but _know!_— that Rainbow is still here. That his plans for her failed. And he'll still have his captives. I don't know what his plans for them are," he said in a very distant, low murmur, "but whatever they are, he's likely to change them once he realized Rainbow is still here. They have to be rescued before he discovers that."

"Stormy can't go. For one, she's needed here until Rainbow can relieve her and take over. For another, she's already exhausted."

"Am _not_," came an utterly drained, fatigued denial.

"So that leaves Tickled, Moonglo and me. Moonglo won't be back until dawn, which is likely to be too late. Tickled is needed to care for Rainbow and Stormy."

Tickled softly gasped as Sam, without warning, started ambling off. "Stormy, when I reach the wall, I'll need you to blast a hole through it. Not for long, just a couple of seconds."

"Wait! Brownie, where are you going?" Tickled softly cried as she scurried after him.

Sam paused a moment, and this time when Brownie looked down he seemed 'here' instead of 'there'. "To the Pits," he murmured, then Sam started slowly trotting off.


End file.
